


of all the stars, the fairest

by ronsenboobi (snewvilliurs)



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 20:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10198727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snewvilliurs/pseuds/ronsenboobi
Summary: Crowe survives. Managing to find Lunafreya on her way out of Insomnia, she throws herself headfirst into her duty to protect and escort her safely to Altissia, as she should have. And then, on the way, she does what she shouldn't: she falls in love.(Rated M for some mild descriptions of violence, brief allusion to sex, and canon-appropriate dark themes. Spoilers for all of Kingsglaive and FFXV up to Chapter 10.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can listen to the playlist I made while writing this fic [here](https://playmoss.com/en/ronsenboobi/playlist/fairest-star). Songs are in order following the story, and I will note at the beginning of each chapter which portions are relevant for maximum immersion. Happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist section:  
> In the Line of Duty — LUNA

It all started with her death—even if the rumours of it, given as fact, had been greatly exaggerated by those who benefited from it. Crowe lay down on the concrete, bleeding; at first face down, playing dead, begging whatever and whoever would listen to please, please let Luche fall for it. For those moments as though frozen in time, she slipped in and out of consciousness, losing her grip on the present, on her life, as Luche’s footsteps faded away and she was left alive, to live or to die. She let herself breathe again and suffered, agonized only to let air into her lungs.

She slipped, a few times, almost fell out into the void: when the pain was too strong, she almost let go. It was the fire in her lungs that brought her back, like jolting awake without realizing she had fallen asleep in the first place. And then she struggled for her life, sucking in more air through her teeth because it meant being alive, because it was her breath that moved her until she was lying on her back, turning onto the puddle of her blood that was seeping out into the ground.

 _Alive, alive,_ she kept repeating in her mind, when it was all she could think through the fog. _Crowe Altius. Kingsglaive. Alive._

The sky was blindingly bright, fluffy clouds floating along the clear blue. It would have been a passable sight to die to, but somehow, it wasn't the last thing she saw. Not yet. Her shaky fingers found her wound, too hot and slick with blood, pressing down as hard as her strength would allow her and groaning out through the pain. Her voice was desperate in her throat, but she continued to push through.

She scraped her other palm on the concrete when she attempted to push herself up at first; the sting on her skin came up in her eyes, too, and she let herself cry. Tears of pain, of betrayal, of despair. They were warm on her cheeks and she distantly tasted the salt on her lips, as though it was not her own tongue. Her breath was fire in her throat and chest, even fiercer than the cyclone of flame she could conjure.

_Alive._

Somehow she rose and dumped all her weight on her bike, half lying down on top of it. How she managed to drive away, she wasn’t sure; the only thing she was certain of was that she refused to let herself bleed to death and finish Luche’s job for him.

***

Days passed in darkness for Crowe as she slipped back and forth between worlds, still fighting for her life, and in fire for Insomnia as it fell. The more she healed, the more the city broke, but somehow the gods kept on smiling down on her, even as the realms of men thought her dead.  
Somehow, they kept her alive and away from the calamity that befell her home—all this for the moment Lunafreya Nox Fleuret stepped out of its walls, so that Crowe might be there, ready to guard her.

She worked against the crowd, pushing through escaping refugees from Insomnia as though swimming upstream; her eyes searched, just in case, for any familiar face—anyone she could help, or who might help her. As the flow of people thinned out nearer the city walls, she saw columns of smoke billowing up from within into the grey-blue morning sky, painted over with scattered streaks of muted oranges and pinks. 

The daemons had gone and the sense of panic had died as much inside her as the countless faces she passed, letting in the resignation to loss. What was left of the wounds in her abdomen pinched and throbbed, but she pressed on until the path opened free of lost souls and rubble, clearing a path into the city, and straight to the two people she might have never hoped to see.

The princess, white-clad and golden and bright, stood by Libertus, who was still in two pieces but no more than that. Her duty, flanked by her friend, her brother, her home—and though Princess Lunafreya carried an air as though the world had been made to have her in it, it was Libertus Crowe’s feet carried her to first.

How many had died among their order, so that the two of them might stand there, outside the city’s gates? For a moment, the weight of duty fell behind that of the sacrifices and the toll they had taken. For that moment, the princess stepped aside, clutching something in the palm of her hand, so that Libertus and Crowe might run to each other. The impact almost knocked Crowe’s breath out of her lungs as they met halfway.

“Crowe?” asked Libertus in a quiet, choked voice against her hair, as though afraid to hope, to believe that she was in his arms. But she was, despite all that had been lost in so short a time.

“I know,” she said, squeezing him one last time before moving back, enough so that she could look at his face. “I almost didn’t make it, but I pulled through, somehow—guess I’m as stubborn as you always said. Libertus, it was Luche. He’s not—”

Lunafreya had been content to watch in silence until she interrupted her then, to let at least two souls find peace when so much of their world had fallen to chaos, but the night still spun in her mind in flashes and vivid echoes. The skin of her hand, closed around the ring, still felt the warmth of Luche’s flesh as he burned and fell; she remembered the venom in his words, after he had shot Nyx, mentioning a woman named Crowe—and how she had screamed when his bullets tore through her.

She understood quickly: Crowe was the Glaive believed to have died on her way to Tenebrae for her. Yet she stood there, and Luna felt a strange sense of satisfaction that the honest soldier had survived her would-be murderer, who had died for power. Sometimes, the gods really were kind even in their cruelty.

“He is no longer,” she said calmly, taking only the one step forward towards Crowe and Libertus, so as not to intrude on their reunion. Despite the relief of it, Luna still harboured something like regret. “His thirst for power has seen him to his end.”

Crowe looked to Libertus, as though for confirmation, and the nod he gave her—grave as it was—made some weight drop from her shoulders. When she looked back towards the princess, decorum finally gained over the situation and she dropped to one knee, fist closed over her heart. She spoke with her head lowered and only looked up at Lunafreya once she had addressed her properly.

“Your Highness. My name is Crowe Altius. I’m the one who was to escort you to Altissia. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Not as late as some wanted you to be, evidently,” Lunafreya said with a kind smile. “Please, rise.”

Crowe did as she was bid. “My orders still stand, Your Highness.”

“Not with the king dead, they don’t really,” Libertus said. His words might have been stern, but Crowe knew there was no real bite, not when they were such a thin veil for loss. Crowe resented what Luche had forced him to go through; she had missed much, but seeing him in civilian clothing when it should have been the most crucial time for Kingsglaive duty was a large part of the story explained.

She had understood enough, too, seeing the Wall shattered, but the confirmation of the king’s death still felt like a punch and a half. Still, Libertus had to know that with Princess Lunafreya standing before her, she would still consider her mission unfinished; even he had been ready to argue for escorting the princess, to finish what Crowe and Nyx had started, when his friend had appeared before them.

He sighed. “Might as well show her, Highness.”

Under Crowe’s expectant gaze, Lunafreya opened her hand: the ring King Regis had once worn lay in her palm, the symbol of Lucian peace a tiny little thing, now to be passed on to another king.

“The Ring of the Lucii,” Libertus announced. “She has to get it to Prince Noctis.”

“I’ll see it done,” Crowe said, nodding firmly at the princess in solemn resolve. “Libertus, you were inside. The rest of the Glaive—how much support could they potentially offer?”

When Libertus spoke, it was in a quiet voice, his expression darkening further. “Not much left. Nyx is still fighting inside the city. Drautos… he was Glauca all along, played us for fools. The few who didn’t betray us with him died fighting.”

Crowe sighed. It was easy to allow her mind to run away from her, knowing all that she did now, but she couldn’t keep her head in the past or let a heavy heart weigh her down. Aside from Nyx and Libertus, there was nothing left for her inside those walls so long as she would have the princess at her side. She looked behind her at the receding crowd she had passed through, growing more distant by the minute.

“Your Highness, we’ll have to leave soon if we’re going to blend in with the refugees.”

“I am ready.”

“If you’re going off like this, you'll need something to defend the princess with,” Libertus said, handing her a kukri that she recognized immediately as one of Nyx’s. “He leant me this. Sure he won’t mind you havin’ it for the same reasons. And this.”

Next, he fished into his pockets and pulled out a patch that all Glaives wore on their shoulders, engraved with the insignia of their order.

“It’s mine. I, uh, I tried to get rid of it after they told us you were dead, but Nyx gave it back to me to carry around. Y’know, symbolism and all that. Kingsglaive keeping you alive. But now it’ll be you keeping the Glaive alive.”

Crowe felt a small, sad smile grow on her lips. Both the blade and the patch felt heavy in her hands; a part of Nyx, and a part of Libertus to carry with her into whatever trials might await. For now, it would be good enough.

“Thank you. I’ve got all I need now.”

“Crowe—” Libertus began. The last time they had parted like this, it had been on joking terms. And then he’d had to grieve.

“I know,” she said in return. “And you’re like a brother to me. Go find Nyx, Libertus. Be safe together, and tell him I lived. Last time he gets to play hero by picking up after me.”

At the same time, Crowe and Libertus reached for one another, and they squeezed each other’s hand one last time in parting before Crowe’s fingers slipped away. Lunafreya bowed her head to him before following after Crowe, who had quickly walked past him.

“Thank you, Libertus.”

Behind them, they heard the fading sound of Libertus shuffling away in the opposite direction, still limping, followed by rustling and grunts as he hoisted himself up onto a high pile of rubble to watch them on their way. Then, his voice called out:

“Hey, queen! You and the king are always welcome in Galahd; me and Nyx will be waitin’ for ya, and Crowe!”

Crowe shared her first smile with Lunafreya then, as the princess turned to nod lightly at him. If only she had known Nyx would never live to know that she had, to carry the legacy he had died for; she might not have left or smiled so easily, especially not knowing that she left Libertus behind alone. She might have looked back, at least.

***

They walked mostly in silence on the outskirts of the Crown City as Crowe maintained a state of hypervigilance on her surroundings, eyes searching for the smallest sign of imperial presence that might have come looking for the princess. During that time, Crowe’s mind strayed when it could into all that had happened: Luche’s attempt on her life and subsequent death, the king’s death, the attack on the city, and Drautos. She was starting to lose herself in the rage when Lunafreya’s voice pried her from her thoughts.

“I never did get to thank you, for coming to escort me from Tenebrae.”

“Oh. Well, any Glaive—” she began to say when she thought of all those who had sullied the name of their order with betrayal, then caught herself. “Any good Glaive would have done it. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do what I was actually supposed to.”

“That you survived and still came back for me is even braver and more honourable a deed; my gratitude is yours. And I apologize, as well. You were hurt for my sake.”

“Trust me, I don’t hold it against you,” Crowe said with a breathy, humourless chuckle, and shook her head.

“You seem troubled.”

She sighed. “There’s not much to say, Princess. Nothing you should be troubled with.”

When Crowe glanced sidelong at Lunafreya, she was already looking at her expectantly and with a kindness in her eyes that made her feel like she was more than just a soldier tasked with escorting her. Embarrassed, she sent her gaze down to her feet before looking back ahead to the road in front of them. Soon, they would be able to part with the crowd and travel more freely, though still under the cover of relative anonymity.

“I feel like I should have known. Luche is—was—almost in charge, when there was no one around to outrank him. He was an ass, but he was part of our order. But the way he looked at me when he’d shot me… like I was nothing.” She swallowed, her voice having grown much too quiet to her own ears. “And I never saw that before it was too late.”

Crowe didn’t speak of the feverish dreams she’d had while recovering, of his face twisting into horrors, of his mouth sending orders for the bullet fragments inside her to tear her apart completely. Voicing this much was already enough. To her surprise, Lunafreya laid a hand on her forearm, her skin warm with a healing kindness.

“For what few moments I knew him, he showed more cruelty than I would have expected of a man in your order. Cruelty towards Nyx Ulric; towards you. I saw him without his mask, but that you didn’t see past it when he wore it isn’t a failure on your part. When people play roles for something that they make themselves believe, they are the greatest actors of all.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”

Lunafreya gave a small, nostalgic half-smile. “My brother, Ravus. He has held King Regis in contempt since Niflheim took our home, twelve years ago. That is what he deeply believes. And so he plays his role accordingly—that of an enemy of Lucis, even if it means serving the Empire in return. Even if all that has brought him is suffering.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Your Highness,” Crowe said, too surprised by the confidence to know with certainty how to respond.

“It’s quite alright. This war has changed many, but we must keep hope that we can shape the future so long as we keep looking forward,” Lunafreya said.

With the way she seemed to believe it, Crowe almost wanted to ask how she could look on all this with so much serenity, but refrained before the question could take shape. The princess looked exhausted, and it likely wouldn’t do her any favours to be pried into by a soldier who was technically out of a job.

“I know it’s actually pretty early,” Crowe said, hoping her attempt at changing the subject wasn’t too clumsy (it was), “but I think we can find a spot where you could rest soon. Hope you don’t mind me saying, Princess, but you look like you’ve had a rough night.”

Lunafreya gave a small chuckle like a wind chime on a warm summer day. “Is it that obvious? Well. It is true the last few days have been… eventful, to say the least.”

Whether her skill for euphemisms and understatement was part of her noble upbringing or simply her personality, Crowe couldn’t tell, but it certainly astonished her.

***

By the time they found a spot to rest until the next morning—safe from the elements, daemons and imperial eyes—Crowe and Lunafreya had already received two sets of strange visitors for the princess. The first was a pair of dogs, black and white, whose presence lit up Lunafreya’s face with relief and gratitude. Crowe stood behind her, uncertain and a little amazed that the dogs had even found her in the first place.

While the princess untied the green scarf tied around the black dog’s neck to free a small red notebook, the white one padded over to Crowe and distracted her from looking over Lunafreya’s shoulder at the notebook’s contents, sniffing at her fingers before offering a few tentative licks. It was an unexpected, tender moment that Crowe hadn’t realized, until then, that she needed; she crouched down next to the dog (Pryna, Lunafreya would later tell her) and ran her hands through her thick white fur, scratching her neck and petting her ears.

“She likes you,” Lunafreya said from above her, having turned and stood. When Crowe looked up, she was smiling warmly down at her. Next to Pryna’s fur, the white of her dress was much less clean that it had once been; her face was also streaked with dirt, her hair mostly intact by some miracle but still in disarray, and her eyes were tired.

Crowe had forgotten herself. She abruptly stood, so much so that she felt a pinch in her abdomen—there was a limit to the mending healing potions could do. A hand subconsciously rose to her stomach as she gave Pryna one last pat with the other when she butted her head against the side of her thigh.

“She’s sweet. For a moment there, I almost forgot everything that happened. I’m sorry, Princess.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Lunafreya asked, genuinely perplexed.

Their second visitor appeared before Crowe could answer. Though she was visibly walking towards them, it seemed as though she had materialized out of thin air. Below the dark bangs of her hair, her eyes were closed.

Crowe didn’t like any of it one bit.

She took a step forward in front of the princess, and the dogs seemed to take the woman’s presence as their leave, for they simply trotted away in no hurry. On instinct, Crowe reached for Nyx’s blade, but Lunafreya’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“No,” she said simply. “She’s a friend. Thank you, Crowe.”

And so Lunafreya stepped from behind her protector to meet the woman halfway, beginning what was about to become one of the strangest experiences in Crowe’s life. It was like a waking dream where she could not comprehend the words spoken, though she had no impression that they were not in the language she understood. All she knew was that, if she heard the woman’s voice at all (she wasn’t certain of even that), then she spoke only in riddles. Crowe was watching from the outside, though she didn’t know what of, and at that moment, she felt more distance between Lunafreya’s position and her own than ever before.

Her duty had been to escort a princess to the place of her wedding with the crown prince of Lucis. Then that duty had shifted: to protect that princess as she carried the future, the peace of their land held in one small ring, but Crowe had somehow—how? she wanted to ask herself—forgotten one crucial detail.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was more than simply a former princess of Tenebrae, more than Prince Noctis’ betrothed, more than a woman King Regis had hoped to protect and tasked with bearing the Ring of the Lucii, more than Crowe’s charge: she was the Oracle, healer of the Starscourge and its darkness, messenger of humanity to the gods and bearer of their light.

Crowe felt suddenly, oppressively dwarfed by the grandeur by which she stood. It wasn’t until the strange woman was looking straight at her, as though all the way into her soul, that she realized their visitor had opened her eyes. She had been too preoccupied with her realization rushing in to notice. What did the woman see inside her, if anything? Her insignificance? That she was unworthy?

It was not for Crowe to know. “See her safe,” was all she said before she left, as unexpectedly as she had made herself known.

“Are you alright?” Lunafreya asked once they were alone again.

So much for seeming up to the task. While she was at it, Crowe took a moment to compose herself. “I’m fine. But you know, Your Highness, even for years serving the king and using the blessing of his magic, I haven’t seen anything in my life that was as ethereal as all that.”

“Yes, I imagine it must be so strange,” Lunafreya said with a note of amusement in her voice. She tore her eyes from the horizon to look at Crowe sympathetically. “Something you’ll have to get used to, I’m afraid.”

 _For you,_ Crowe wanted to say, _I’d get used to anything_. She had already become nearly familiar with death; a woman walking with her eyes closed ought to be easier to deal with than that, even if it wasn’t quite.

***

When morning came, Crowe was awake before Lunafreya, counting what gil she had left from the allowance that she had been given to begin her escort mission and had partly spent in order to stay alive after the ambush, as well as what Libertus had slipped her with his patch without her even noticing. If they scrounged a little on the way, they might be able to get a few supplies to keep them on the road and off the beaten path if need be, as well as new traveling clothes for the princess. 

Crowe still had the clothes she’d worn on her back when she had left Insomnia, aside from the shirt she’d replaced due to the bullet holes and the blood. She found Lunafreya eyeing the bloodstains she hadn’t been able to get out of her jacket and pants, a few hours later, and passed a hand over the fabric sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry about this, Your Highness, I know it’s not the most pleasant sight. I haven’t been able to change since I left for Tenebrae, and I was going to go to my place for my uniform when I got back to the Crown City, but—well. The blood’s mine, though, if that’s any reassurance.”

“Should it be?” Lunafreya asked, looking a little puzzled before cracking a smile, if only at the absurdity of the comment. It made Crowe want to punch herself in the face. “Worry not for your attire; I know the circumstances we find ourselves in are beyond ordinary, and I am far from presentable, myself. Besides, I’ve spent time with your comrade, Nyx Ulric, while he was on duty. I can imagine you in your uniform perfectly well.”

If Crowe had been drinking, she would have definitely choked on it. After taking a moment to clear her shifting, flustered expression and her mind of insinuations far from befitting the escort detail for a princess and Oracle, she cleared her throat.

“Well, I’ve got Libertus’ ensign patch, but as much as I want to sew it on my shoulder, it’s probably best we both stay inconspicuous as long as possible. Maybe when we meet up with Prince Noctis in Altissia; I’ll need to be at least a little presentable. In the meantime, we’re going shopping. You can’t possibly be comfortable in this.”

“No, not quite,” Lunafreya agreed. In fact, she looked like she wanted to get out of that dress as soon as possible; Crowe could only imagine everything she had gone through since she had put it on. Its battered state told a story in and of itself.

“Good. It’s settled, then,” Crowe said, slapping decisive hands on her knees to stand. She offered Lunafreya a hand. “Let’s go, Princess.”

***

“When you said shopping, I didn’t think you meant stealing,” Lunafreya hissed, standing beside Crowe as she peered inside the window of the lonely, disused car they had come upon right on the side of the road a mile from an outpost. Crowe could see its sign in the distance, shining mutely through the morning fog.

“Well, I did mean shopping, but I didn’t expect this serendipity,” Crowe said. “Besides, is it really stealing? This car looks like it hasn’t been driven in years; owners probably left it when they came across daemons driving at night. It happens a lot outside the city. We can always try tracking them down by the plates once this is all over and give them a—a royal commendation, or something. May I?”

Lunafreya’s gaze followed the gesture Crowe made towards the lock on the driver-side door and didn’t seem quite sure what she was asking. “Do what you must.”

Crowe nodded and crouched down to get to work at once. The princess watched her curiously, expectant to see what she would do; and what she did was pull a lockpick hidden deep within her hair.

“I don’t imagine something this practical is standard Kingsglaive issue.”

“No, you guessed right,” Crowe chuckled. “It’s a little trick I’m keeping from my past. Plus, it really helps holding up my hair.”

“You have yours, as I have mine,” Lunafreya said, touching the golden hairpin at the side of her head and angling her face away so that Crowe could see.

She stopped dead in the middle of fiddling with the lock and shot up to her feet quicker than a bullet. “You need to take that off and chuck it _now_. It has a tracker, we have to—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” Lunafreya said, holding out a hand. “Nyx found and removed it on our way out of Insomnia. The tracker is destroyed.”

Crowe let out a sigh of relief. All this time, the hairpin had been sitting right under her nose, and she hadn’t even noticed. Even if the tracker was no longer a threat, it could well have been, if not for Nyx saving her ass again; she needed to up her game. Nodding a few times to calm herself down, she crouched again to work the lock.

“I’m sorry, it’s bugging me,” she said after thinking for a moment. “Why’d you even keep it? After the way it was used—the intentions against you?”

“King Regis told me he’d sent one of your order to see me out of Tenebrae when I was taken to the Crown City instead; I asked Nyx about you that same night. You were thought to be dead, and so he gave it to me out of kindness. I told him I would carry it with me always.”

“Just like that? Someone you’ve never met died—supposedly—before they could give you something they were ordered to, and you take responsibility and promise something like that for their memory?” Crowe asked disbelievingly.

“Yes,” answered Lunafreya like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “How is it any different than your loyalty to your duty towards me even with your king dead and everything changed?”

“You’re the Oracle. We all have a duty to you,” Crowe said, and that was the most obvious answer to her. “Besides, my king may be dead, but I’m still Lucian, and you’re the crown prince’s betrothed. He’ll be king soon, so maybe I’ll be sworn to you both one day. But I’m just a soldier; you don’t owe me anything. And what if someone like—someone like Luche had been in my place? You certainly wouldn’t owe him anything.”

Lunafreya said very simply: “But it _was_ you: a good woman, as Nyx is a good man. He said nothing of you—only shook his head—but the suffering was plain on his face. Much can be told of a soldier simply by hearing how their comrades speak of them, and his silence spoke louder than you might imagine. Your memory was worth honouring, and now that you stand here by my side, I know that my promise was not mislaid.”

Crowe was stunned for a moment, and not quite sure, again, how to react. The lock turned under her fingers with a click. “Nyx must have been really annoyed with you.”

“He called it a brave princess act,” Lunafreya said with smiling eyes, then lay a serious hand on Crowe’s arm as she rose. “Know that I do believe everything I say to be true.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, and I am honoured, Your Highness. Truly.”

Crowe paused after she spoke, hesitating a moment and touching her fingers to Lunafreya’s just barely, butterfly-soft, before she stepped away towards the passenger side to open the door for her.

“Your ride’s ready, Princess,” she said lightly, to ease the tension she felt and didn’t want to understand, making a grand sweep with her free arm.

As Lunafreya eased into the seat, Crowe gently closed the door and flitted back around the car, popping in head-first to check the meter before sitting down. “And we’re in luck: there’s just enough gas that we don’t have to push our diplomatic vehicle to the outpost.”

“Thank the Stars for that,” Lunafreya said with an amused, but contained smile as Crowe started the engine.

***

Despite Crowe’s satisfaction over all the acquisitions for their foreseeable future on the road, they didn’t get to use them much before yet another unexpected visit. The next few days went by rather uneventfully; they came across no daemons or Imperials, very little day-to-day destructive wildlife, and they could sleep in peace as Lunafreya drew protective runes around their campsites whenever they settled down.

Thankfully, their outfits also seemed to be passable at not attracting attention. The news still claimed Lunafreya to have died alongside King Regis, and for now—until they met with Prince Noctis in Altissia and delivered the Ring—she was content to carry out this task under the cover and security of anonymity.

For that short time, they received no visits from dogs or the Messenger Gentiana. As days and nights moved into one another, Crowe and Lunafreya slipped into surprising ease. Crowe overcame bits and pieces of her intimidated inhibitions stemming from the hyper-awareness that she was protecting the Oracle herself, to simply find peace and a measure of enlightenment from the things Lunafreya said. And Crowe made her laugh, even if there were times her smile was too contained, too reserved, as though she diminished her own moments of happiness.

Still, without knowing it, they both helped each other in the exact way they needed. A part of Crowe wanted it to last forever already, only to make her feel selfish to want to stand by Lunafreya’s side because it made her forget the heaviness that settled in her heart at the thought of home. Every time she began to dwell on it—as on Insomnia, the Kingsglaive, her late king—she found something else to focus on.

Self-preservation had always been her strongest suit, but the effect Lunafreya had on her fueled both guilt and survival. It was just easier to prioritize protecting her—even if, sometimes, it felt like the gods themselves were testing her and passing judgement on her failings to hide her. Being found by Lunafreya’s own dogs and her cosmic ally was one thing, but Imperials were entirely another—and no matter what, she would always consider the man who found them next an Imperial.

Dusk was settling in when he came upon their path. The light was growing lower and lower as they headed for a campsite a few miles north, the way that only the in-between could make visibility even poorer than at night. Crowe noticed movement, though indistinguishable past that nature, and moved to turn on the high beams on the car when the man dropped right in front of them in the middle of the road.

Before she could identify him, or even see the direction from which he had come, the headlights turned off entirely.

This set her on edge. The car wasn’t new, but she had just gotten it checked and tuned up; there was no reason for the lights to be acting up. She braked, held an arm out in front of Lunafreya and turned her eyes up, searching through the windshield and all her mirrors for any sight of imperial ship lights in the sky—nothing.

And then her charge opened her door and stepped out of the car without warning.

“Hey!” Crowe hissed, afraid to make her voice louder than a whisper. “Princess—!”

Ignoring the quickening of her heartbeat, Crowe grabbed Nyx’s kukri and hurried out of her seat and onto the road, jogging to put herself between Lunafreya and the man. She could see him clearer now, out onto the road and near him: pale-haired and pale-garbed, he was a stranger to Crowe, but the metal armour of his left arm was telling of Niflheim’s style. She held her arm out in front of the princess again.

“Crowe,” Lunafreya began to say, and Crowe would have listened, had her eyes not moved down to his belt and seen the sword gleaming at his hip.

The king’s glaive.

Furious, she brandished Nyx’s dagger at his throat, grabbing a handful of fabric at his lapel. “Surrender your weapon. Now.”

She barely heard Lunafreya’s voice from behind her, calling her name; it felt like being underwater, except that the water was the blood pumping through her ears, the sheer rage blinding and deafening her to everything but the man’s smirk and his smug voice.

“And why would I do that? You haven’t asked very nicely.”

“This doesn’t belong to you, thief.”

If her weapon was only a hovering threat near his throat before, now she had gotten serious. She pressed the blade to his skin, but he didn’t so much as flinch; only Lunafreya’s voice sounded louder, harder, commanding Crowe’s emotions to break down their walls.

“Stand down, Glaive!”

Crowe faltered in her hesitation, but only for a moment. She lowered Nyx’s blade—though her grip upon it remained white-knuckled—and let go of the man to step back two paces, letting Lunafreya move closer.

“Ah. Kingsglaive; that explains it,” the man said, glancing back between the two of them before settling his gaze back momentarily on Crowe. “If you must know, soldier, your late king bestowed the sword upon me. As a gift.”

“You and I both know this to be false, Ravus,” Lunafreya said firmly, and then Crowe understood. She remembered her mentioning her brother before, and now he stood before them. “I saw King Regis killed with my own eyes, and he still wielded the glaive then; it belongs to Prince Noctis now, as does the Ring. Is that why you’ve come? Rejected by the Lucii, and you would still seek their power for your masters?”

“You should know that I was made High Commander of the Imperial army, now with General Glauca dead,” Ravus announced, ignoring her taunts. 

Crowe wouldn’t have expected this man to bring her peace, and yet he had—it had made her feel sick for days to think that Drautos might still live, even unmasked as Glauca, but at least now she knew that he and Luche had both paid for their betrayal with their lives. With the world as it was, most of everything she had known and loved gone, it was the least she could have hoped for.

Ravus continued, with barely a pause for effect: “I was given orders to find you and bring you back into the Empire’s custody.”

Lunafreya’s body stiffened, and her mouth drew a taut line; Crowe stepped closer to her and raised her blade.

“I will not come quietly, if that is your hope,” Lunafreya said. “I will not be taken from my duty.”

To the surprise of Crowe and Luna both, Ravus shook his head. “I’ve come to escort you back to Tenebrae. The Empire can keep searching.”

Though his words seemed sincere, Lunafreya was not moved by them. There was not a single shift in her posture and expression; it was clear that her trust in her brother had been shaken—not by resentment, but by sorrow.

“Why choose to oppose their orders now?” she asked.

“Because I want you safe.”

Lunafreya looked at Crowe, not to ask for her opinion but to gauge her impression of Ravus, and there was little to find in her expression but contempt and mistrust. With the king’s glaive at his belt, and knowing that he had all but looted it off King Regis’ body by Lunafreya’s account, there was little that could make him grow in Crowe’s esteem.

Whatever had led her to make the decision she did, Crowe absolutely did not follow, but Lunafreya was much more decisive than her usually mild manners let on. She gave a nod.

“Escort us, then.”

She kept her head high, her gaze unwavering; she was immovable, a mountain of grace and determination who would stir for no gust of wind, no cyclone whatsoever. If not for her disbelief and discomfort with the situation, Crowe might almost have smiled, with a thought for Nyx—it wasn’t a brave princess act. Lunafreya simply was.

Ravus had to know his sister well enough to be aware that trying to fool her would be a lost battle, and Crowe certainly hoped he did, for all their sakes. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the headache it would become if he surrendered them to Niflheim; with just a dagger and no magic, her options for defending the princess against an entire army were alarmingly limited.

***

If Lunafreya was bothered by the way Crowe nervously tapped the steering wheel with her fingers or noticed it at all, she was superhumanly patient about it. Crowe was starting to get on her own nerves, wound tight and prey to a racing mind that could only think of all the ways this could possibly go wrong, and yet Lunafreya sat quietly beside her, a picture of serenity.

“Can I say something, Your Highness?” Crowe asked at last, glancing sideways towards her. “I mean, this is your duty and your life and I’m essentially just a bodyguard, but…”

“Speak your mind.”

“I know this is your home and your brother, but both of them belong to the Niffs. They think _you_ belong to them. Even if he’s honest and he just wants to take you home—and I’m not entirely convinced that this isn’t a trap— _if_ he really wants to take you home so you don’t have to run and hide on top of everything, the Empire is everywhere; make no mistake. And in Tenebrae? You’ll be even easier to find.”

“I share your doubts,” Lunafreya said, but offered nothing else; she just looked out the window in such a distant fashion that she might have been worlds away.

Crowe swallowed through the growing tightness in her throat, mostly from the frustration, but something ached, too. Why did it make what she wanted to say even harder? “If they get the drop on us and come for you, Princess, I don’t know that I can keep you safe.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry, but is that really all you have to say?”

“I do not fear death, Crowe,” Lunafreya said, finally looking back at her; Crowe loathed that she had to keep so much of her attention on the road and couldn’t properly see her expression. “My duty extends beyond the Ring, and running only serves this one purpose. By returning to Tenebrae, I can at least attempt to begin following both of the paths I must. The Empire will pose the same threat either way. I fear as you do, but I can only pray that this is the best way forward.”

Crowe didn’t want her to have to fear, but most of all, she didn’t want to have to fail her. She dropped her shoulders with a sigh, easing the tension that had kept them high with a sense of resignation; there was little she could do to go against Lunafreya.

“I hope it is.” 

“Our journey is not yet at its end,” Lunafreya said softly. “I understand the strain this puts on you, and for this I apologize—but it is my hope that you will remain by my side.”

Crowe shifted in her seat, loosening her grip on the steering wheel when she realized how tight it had become.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist section:  
> Haunted — Blest Be the moonlight -LUNA-

Crowe had never traveled very far in her life. Born on the outskirts of Insomnia, she had moved into the city to live in the refugee district with Libertus while under King Regis’ employ; as a member of the Kingsglaive, she had gone where his wars took them, but fighting gave little opportunity to explore. The further she’d gone was the neutral territory where she had been dropped off to make her way to Tenebrae, only to be shot before she could see more of the world.

At first, when the scenery began to change, she felt a sinking, unavoidable sense of panic as her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. Even knowing full well that Luche was dead, a part of her half-expected him to appear out of nowhere, with more bullets for her and, this time, for Lunafreya as well—and that he wouldn’t mess it up this time. Her grip on the steering wheel was vicelike, her knuckles a bright white behind her gloves; the car swerved when, for just a moment, she could only see him standing above her, dark against the backlighting of the blue sky.

“Are you alright?” Lunafreya asked, still gripping the door where she had reached for it on instinct when the car lurched.

“No. Yes. I’m fine, it’s—” she started to say. She frowned and chewed at her lips, then continued after taking a breath. “Things didn’t go too well for me last time I was heading to Tenebrae. It comes and goes.”

“I’m sorry,” Lunafreya said softly, placing a hand on Crowe’s arm. Her touch was gentle and kind, and helped to bring her back into the present, even as her stomach continued to nauseate her. Still, the road ahead was clear and she could breathe a little easier.

“Is the Starscourge the only thing you can heal?” Crowe asked once she felt her voice would be steady.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re the Oracle. Obviously the gods have given you power, so I was wondering how far it extended.”

“Because I’ve made you feel better?”

Crowe felt embarrassed by the question, somehow. “I guess, yeah.”

“That was only comfort.”

The matter-of-fact simplicity of Lunafreya’s statement put a tentative smile on Crowe’s face, and they said little else for some time. Now that this, too, had passed, her heart was opened to the way Tenebrae grew before their eyes. For Lunafreya, it was the sight of home, but for Crowe, who had never seen so much green or such a lush architecture, it was a marvel. With how little of the world she had seen, perhaps anything would have impressed her—but Tenebrae was simply just as breathtaking as its princess.

***

When they arrived at Fenestala Manor, seat of House Fleuret, there was no ambush, not a single Niff lying in wait; only a handful of house attendants who radiated joy at the safe return of their lady. They welcomed Crowe as though she were one of their own for her service; one woman, Maria, even held both of her hands in hers as she introduced herself, not once breaking eye contact. All of them spoke to her with warmth, far from anything she had ever received through her Kingsglaive duty.

It was not the only thing radically different from life in Insomnia. Where the Crown City was a bustling centre of technology, Tenebrae was the calm forefront of history that was forgotten in the background of her adoptive home. Tenebrae was soft and meditative, natural; the people were kind and cordial even though this was the home of a once-royal family, a stark contrast against the protocol and distance that qualified the whole social structure of the Citadel.

For the first time in weeks, Crowe felt that she could breathe. At the manor, she could let herself believe that she had never been stopped halfway, that the vehicle waiting parked outside was her bike, that King Regis still held the Wall and Libertus still wore the Kingsglaive uniform.

Once they had arrived, Crowe was given guest quarters and freedom to roam the halls of the manor. She spent her first few hours simply mesmerized by the light and openness of the architecture, the way all the colours in the decoration seemed to harmonize; it gave her the impression that it was a truly wonderful place to live—but there was a definite air of sorrow within the walls, beneath the peace. 

All of it reminded her of Lunafreya, of whom she began to see very little for the rest of their stay in Tenebrae. For Crowe, it was a short, restful interlude, but what it was for her, she couldn’t tell, for the princess spent most of her time in her own room, meeting with Gentiana.

Her relative absence was, at the same time, a heaviness and an emptiness inside Crowe—she missed her.

The first thing she busied herself with in the coming days was to find the member of the household most closely assigned to sewing work. He was a big man, somewhere past middle age, gruff but kind nonetheless. At Crowe’s request, he attached Libertus’ shoulder patch to straps and buckles so that she could wear it and take it off with ease. 

Once this was done, she strapped it to her shoulder and did not take it off for the whole of her stay in Tenebrae. The purpose was twofold: for one, she somehow felt safer with it, more like herself—and it was a symbol, for all the people who served Lunafreya, that Lucis had not abandoned her.

She didn’t stop to ask herself what Libertus, or anyone else, might think of the fact that she was planting the weight of not only the Kingsglaive’s, but King Regis’ whole legacy on her shoulders. It was easier to carry on in the name of her king and country than to admit to herself just how personal her duty had become.

***

One afternoon, Crowe ran into Pryna. She was alone, and without her black counterpart, Umbra, she nearly blended into her surroundings against the white stone of the manor. She was calm at first, sitting by Crowe’s feet and looking at her expectantly while her tail swished happily on the floor behind her, waiting for Crowe to crouch and pet her.

“Hey, you,” Crowe said. This time, alone with Pryna in an empty hallway, she didn’t have any pride to hold her back from speaking in her instinctively soft and high-pitched voice reserved for particularly adorable animals and the occasional small child. “Where’s your buddy, huh? He leave you hangin’? Yeah, you and me both. My buddies are away doing their own thing, too—though I guess they’re the ones who have more of a right saying that about me. Why aren’t you with Princess Lunafreya? I thought you guys would be spending as much time together as possible before we left.”

Pryna tilted her head as if to ask “why aren’t _you_?” Or perhaps it was the appellation: even the people who served Lunafreya referred to her as Lady, rather than Princess; for Crowe, it simply was the way of her king, who had never ceased to recognize her as Queen Sylva’s daughter. No one in the Kingsglaive would have addressed her as the lady Oracle before the princess of Tenebrae.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that,” Crowe said fondly. This was when Pryna stood, and appeared to become very excited: she ran in circles around Crowe several times and, at the end of the last, took off down the hallway. “Wait, am I supposed to follow?”

As might be expected of a dog, Pryna gave no answer, and so Crowe began to jog down the hallway after her. Once she had caught up, Pryna slowed down to a peppy trot and led Crowe out of the manor, through a beautifully lush garden that breathed tranquility and prosperity. They made it out of the grounds into a wide field of blue flowers that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Crowe stopped before she could start treading through the flowers after Pryna, taken with awe; never in her life had she seen anything of the sort. In what she knew of Lucis, nature was an afterthought: her village outside the Crown City, from what little she remembered of it, was mostly cinder with the occasional blades of grass and overtaking vines. Insomnia itself was not much different: a grand arrangement of glass and stone reigned inside the city, where the modern lived alongside vestiges of history from the time of the old kings.

In comparison, this field seemed like something right out of a dream. The sunlight lay a golden veil over the tips of the flowers, each a testament to beauty and light. She reached down to the one closest to her ankle and ran her fingers over the blue blossoms, soft against her skin, and looked up when Pryna gave a small, antsy yip.

“You want me to walk into there?” she asked the dog. “But I’ll crush them.”

Pryna seemed to find her concerns completely useless. Careful of where she put her feet, Crowe followed as Pryna led her further into the field, far enough for her to notice a pair of figures, though hard to see against the blinding sunlight. Crowe held a hand above her eyes and squinted until she recognized both: Lunafreya and her brother, Ravus, who was retreating in the other direction, out of the field.

Crowe suddenly felt utterly out of place and invasive. “Why’d you make me come here?” she hissed to Pyna.

The dog had little concern for Crowe’s preoccupation with manners and protocol, and ignored her completely as she took off towards her owner. Crowe was pivoting to make her escape unnoticed when Lunafreya saw her.

“Crowe,” she called out softly, beginning to walk towards her with one hand hovering over Pryna’s head.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to intrude, I—I don’t know why I got it into my head that your dog wanted me to follow her. It was inappropriate and I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Lunafreya didn’t seem offended in the slightest; in fact, the only word Crowe could have used to describe her expression was sorrowful, even more so than usual. Her restraint was more obvious than ever in the way she smiled, and her eyes were puffy and red.

Crowe wasn’t about to dare asking about that.

“Why would you apologize? I’m glad you’re seeing this place,” Lunafreya said. She gazed over the field, motioning to the flowers. “Sylleblossoms; they’re my favourite, and a species native to Tenebrae.”

“They’re beautiful,” Crowe said—without taking her eyes off of Lunafreya.

Once Lunafreya looked back towards Crowe, she was smiling a little softer. “You’re wearing Libertus’ insignia. It suits you; you seem right at home.”

Though she was glad for the compliment, Crowe couldn’t help but think of how much Lunafreya put others in front of herself; even as crestfallen as her conversation with her brother seemed to have made her, she selflessly placed her attention on Crowe and somehow noticed the minor change she had made to her attire to fit a touch of the Kingsglaive uniform, and realized what it meant to her. 

It didn’t feel fair.

“Thank you, Princess,” she said. It was the only thing that kept the earth below her feet, so that she didn’t feel completely out of place and out of time in Tenebrae, but looking at Lunafreya, she knew it wasn’t just symbols that kept her feet on the ground. Awkwardly, she motioned to the hairpin, still shining in Lunafreya’s pale hair. “It’s really beautiful on you. I’m glad you kept it.”

The comment put a somewhat more genuine smile on Lunafreya’s face, and Crowe was glad for it; that was what she wanted to see most.

As they began to walk back to the manor together, Crowe hesitated a moment before lifting a hand up to Lunafreya’s back, gentle and protective, though light enough that she could distance herself from the touch if she wished. Instead, she just moved to walk closer to her the rest of the way.

“Please,” she said shortly before they arrived back at the manor, breaking the comfortable silence they had fallen into. “We’ve been together for some time, and will yet continue to be for more. Call me Luna.”

Crowe couldn’t even begin to imagine that. Even though his opinion no longer mattered—certainly not with what she knew now—she couldn’t help but think of how Drautos might react to her insubordination if she did. “How’s Lady Lunafreya?”

“Lunafreya only,” she countered firmly, but with an aerial smile, amused that this had turned into a negotiation. “And that is my final offer.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, then,” Crowe chuckled. Then, she tested it out, relishing in how natural it felt, even if it was against she knew of her service: “Lunafreya.”

Meals aside, this was the first and last time Crowe saw Lunafreya for the whole of their time in Tenebrae.

***

One morning, Crowe woke up much earlier than usual. Although she had found it difficult the first few nights to sleep in a bed so soft it might as well swallow her up, she had gotten used to the comfort—even after having initially considered sleeping on the floor but opted against it out of respect for her hosts—and spent her mornings sleeping in much later than she was used to. This felt more like her day to day, training in the dew-fresh morning air in Insomnia, and when she got herself out of bed to look outside the window, she almost expected to see Nyx and Libertus waiting for her.

Instead, she was on her own, as far from home as she had ever been, and the manor was much quieter than she had ever known the Kingsglaive headquarters to be. She got dressed, strapped her patch to her shoulder and stepped out of her quarters almost on tiptoes. Most of the manor’s inhabitants were still asleep and it was clear in the quietude of the halls, giving Crowe the impression of being alone in the world; there was something soothing about it that she couldn’t quite explain, not when it usually should have made her feel lonely.

It was still hard to grasp the reality of what she was living. To her, Fenestala Manor and Tenebrae as whole remained surreal—places that were happening to her and that she barely fit into, rather than experiencing them. Every day felt like waiting for Lunafreya and wandering to pass the time. She had checked the news once, on her second day, and lost the energy for it immediately when reading up on the fall of Insomnia and seeing pictures of her home ruined; it made guilt curl up at the bottom of her stomach to think that she had left Libertus and Nyx behind to try and help the city heal.

So she kept on wandering. At least, this morning, it felt more like an adventure or a secret to walk the halls on her own and never expect the presence of a single soul, at least not for likely another hour. On the second floor, she found a room with its double doors open, a row of green carpet in the centre and close to no furnishings but a few display cases of old family heirlooms. 

There was a great window on the far wall that faced east and let in a torrent of early morning light, making the stained glass at the pointed top of it glow. The window alone was such a beautiful sight that Crowe spent a long moment admiring it, only a few steps inside the room. Eventually she turned, gazing about the walls to find that both were adorned with various portraits: a history of House Fleuret and its generations to the north, and the current family to the south. 

Crowe stopped at a painting of Queen Sylva first, dressed in sylleblossom blues and whites—she resembled her son most in the structure of her face, but the smile she wore was every bit her daughter’s. In another, she sat with both her children: Ravus, close to his teens, and Lunafreya, young and bright with her dogs at her feet. Judging by her age, Crowe estimated this had been commissioned shortly before her ascension as Oracle.

Then Crowe stood by the most recent portrait of her, a simple bust wherein she looked out into the distance with serenity, her brow soft and her eyes clear. For that moment, Crowe’s body felt like it was not her own; her limbs were heavy, and distant somehow, so that she couldn’t have turned away if she had wanted to. She looked at the painting and her heart stirred, the way it did when Lunafreya smiled at her first thing in the morning—that was her sunrise, every day they traveled together. Here, in her home but away from her, she missed her like she might miss the light itself.

How long she spent standing there with her heart full and her mind empty, she couldn’t have told; only that she was shaken out of her moment out of time by a kind, careful voice.

“Is our lady not beautiful?” Maria asked from behind her, smiling as she clasped her hands together. “Beautiful of soul and of character. I rather enjoy how they captured her kindness; it is all in the eyes.”

“Yes,” Crowe said, battling against her tongue-tied restraint. She was agreeing to everything, and perhaps more. “It’s a privilege for me to be serving her.”

“That it is, my dear—for all of us. Though I believe you more than deserve the duty you were given.”

Crowe shook her head. “I’m just following orders. Plenty of good men and women in the Glaive would have done the same.”

“Come, now, don’t diminish yourself so. Lady Lunafreya speaks most highly of you—of your bravery and calm, and the courage to put your duty before yourself and your home. Much like her,” Maria said, her smile growing melancholy as she motioned to the painting with her chin. Crowe bowed her head, both humbled and flustered. That Lunafreya spoke of her to the staff was already an honour on its own; it was more than she could have hoped for to be described thus.

“You’re very kind,” Crowe said, at a loss.

Maria smiled and reached for Crowe’s hands, gently stroking her skin with her thumbs; for just a moment, the memory of Nyx’s mother flashed through her mind. “You keep her safe, brave Crowe. I don’t believe she would trust any other of your order to do it now more than she trusts you.”

“I won’t fail her, Ma’am. You can count on me.”

And Crowe believed that, with every fibre of her being.

***

“My heart aches, Gentiana. I only wish to see Noctis safe, and I do as I must that he might bring us the future of peace we deserve, but in doing this I must fail in my duty to the people as I hide. And yet—I know that I only bring him danger, no matter the precautions. Niflheim will stop at nothing for the Ring.”

“The Ring is his destiny,” said Gentiana. “The only responsibility you bear is to deliver it to him. Danger shall come to the Chosen King through no fault of your own.”

“But it is my duty to do everything I can that he might weather the darkness and bring us the light.”

“Where the voice of the Oracle sounds, the gods will be guided to listen.”

Lunafreya frowned. “The gods… Might the Astrals lend their power to him?”

Gentiana gave no answer; she only regarded Lunafreya in silence, reading, understanding. “You have found a new path, but something troubles you yet.”

“Seeing Noctis safe and happy is a dream that grows further and further from me. I see my brother suffering and am powerless to ease his pain. And I risk Crowe’s life every day by simply keeping her at my side. I wish… I wish it were not so. That the world could heal itself without me, for just one day.”

“She is by your side not because you are keeping her. It is because she stays.”

***

“I’ve come to a decision,” Lunafreya said on the morning that would then become their last. “I will go to the people and resume my duties as Oracle on our way to Altissia.”

Crowe raised her eyebrows in surprise, pausing with her fork still mid-air above her plate. “You want to stop hiding? You know the Niffs will swarm to you for that ring the second you come back into the limelight.”

“I know. But I’m sure we can continue to be at least one step ahead of them; you’ve been good at keeping us low to the ground, and I aim to keep traveling this way.”

“Yeah, okay,” Crowe said, rubbing her forehead. Even if she had wanted to, there was no arguing with Lunafreya when she was giving her that determined look. “You’re the boss, Princess.”

“There is one more thing,” Lunafreya said. She clasped her hands together on the breakfast table, businesslike, and Crowe found herself with a looming feeling of dread. “I will commune with the Astrals and ask them to lend their strength to Noctis.”

“You mean wake the Six? You can do that?” Crowe asked disbelievingly.

“Indeed.”

“So what we’ve got on the schedule is: heal people with the plague, get the gods to help Prince Noctis, and make it to Altissia before the Empire gets its hands on the Ring. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Crowe let out a sigh and shook her head a little as she leaned back in her chair to look at Lunafreya—at an unstoppable force of energy. “There’s never anything too risky for you, is it?”

“Why should it be?” Lunafreya said, smiling in a way that could only be described as cheeky. “I have you.”

***

They left that afternoon, stuffing their car’s trunk full of provisions for the road and a few changes of clothes. Crowe was offered another car, better suited for transporting the former princess and Oracle, but she flatly refused; though she trusted everyone who served Lunafreya’s family—because _she_ trusted them—and the Empire had no direct grasp on Fenestala Manor now that Ravus aimed to protect his sister, she didn’t trust a car with with Tenebrae plates. The car she’d brought, she could check for trackers (and she did, finding nothing everywhere she could think of), but a fancy one of theirs? She wasn’t so sure, and it would certainly draw more attention than the run-of-the-mill heap of metal she’d stolen.

Lunafreya sat inside the car in neat travel clothes, her hair down in a side braid; like this, she almost looked normal, and Crowe started the engine a beat later than she might have had she not been looking at her.

“An announcement will be made soon, for the people, once we near our destination. We shall meet them there, that I might give them my blessings before we continue on.”

“Let’s just hope the Niffs don’t hear about it,” Crowe said.

Thinking that her tone might have been too harsh for her intentions, Crowe glanced to the side with a smile and saw that Lunafreya was smiling, too. She was ready to face whatever came to her so long as she was on her own path, making her own choices, and she would not stop for fear of being stopped by anyone—Crowe knew this, and Lunafreya knew that she did.

It was all worth it. Crowe realized this, beyond all her doubts, once she finally saw what it was to have the Oracle in their world: the people regarded her as though she were hope personified, with light in their eyes and kindness in their hearts, ready to receive her blessing that it might heal their pains.

Wearing her Kingsglaive insignia, Crowe got out of the car and made a turn of the small crowd that had gathered before returning once she deemed it safe. One arm folded behind her back, she opened the passenger door for Lunafreya, then became a shadow as the Oracle greeted the people, almost one by one.

For the better part of an hour, Crowe stood behind her with her arms behind her back, as she welcomed each and every person who needed her with genuine kindness and compassion. No matter how many afflicted by the Starscourge came to her, Crowe couldn’t stop being mesmerized by the way Lunafreya channeled the light that the gods granted her to bring them peace and healing—to the point where it became difficult to stand there motionless. She wanted to sit by her, to watch, to hold her hand, to see the way she smiled.

It touched her to the bottom of her soul, how Lunafreya spoke to them. Her heart filled and swelled and she was utterly moved by the torrent inside her—everything she had known up to that moment rushed in and over her as the humanity of the moment carried on to her.

“Blessed Stars of life and light, deliver us from darkness’ blight.”

The words that Lunafreya spoke stayed in Crowe’s mind, not for what they asked of the gods but why the plea was made, by whom, and the spirit of hope it carried. Though the times were dark and she still feared the Empire’s far-reaching grasp, Crowe could almost believe that they would all see the light, for all those who lived and died for the future.

When all in need of healing had received it, the people gave Lunafreya endless gratitude and Crowe found herself tongue-tied, her throat tight with emotion. She saw that Lunafreya was tired, her smile worn at the edges as she remained on the small bench she sat on.

Crowe stepped forward so that she and Lunafreya could exchange a glance. Lunafreya’s smile softened as she hid nothing from Crowe, who quickly understood; she offered her an arm and helped her rise, letting her lean upon her as much as she would let herself on the way back.

“Thank you,” Lunafreya said to the crowd, bowing as she stood by the car. “Blessings to you all.”

Once Crowe had closed the door, gotten into her seat and driven away, Lunafreya slumped into her own seat.

“How are you feeling?” Crowe asked. “And I mean how you’re feeling really.”

“Did you expect me to diminish the truth?” Lunafreya chuckled tiredly.

“Yeah. Weren’t you going to?”

“I was, a little.” When Crowe glanced sideways, she caught the fleeting end of a sheepish smile on Lunafreya’s lips. “I am used to it, but giving blessings can be demanding. It’s only that it’s been a while; I suppose I’d gotten out of practice.”

“So you’re feeling…?” Crowe asked expectantly. “Come on, Lunafreya, I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“There we go.”

“Why did you insist?”

The question was in no way an accusation; only a simply interrogation. It didn’t surprise Crowe one bit that Lunafreya genuinely wondered why she had been so intent on getting a clear answer.

“Because I care about you,” Crowe said bluntly. She caught herself, cleared her throat. “And even I got tired just watching. It’s—it was a lot, all of it. So I couldn’t imagine the toll it might take on you, and I wanted you to tell me honestly. Nyx is just like this. He’s got a lot of bravado, but it’s only because he takes so much on his shoulders, it’s almost unhealthy sometimes. Guy never wants to admit he feels anything but fine. But sometimes you have to say how you really feel, otherwise it’ll bury you. For him, it’s all the hero stuff; for you, it’s the kindness and the duty.”

 _You should talk_ , a part of her said. She was half-prepared to let her feelings bury her quietly, no matter how hypocritical it made her in telling Lunafreya this.

“I shall endeavour to be more honest with you in the future, then,” Lunafreya said with a nod before reaching for Crowe’s hand and holding it, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you, Crowe.”

Crowe felt so nauseous under the weight of all that she let burden her that she could barely keep her attention on the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist section:  
> Shadows Foretold -APOCALYPSIS NOCTIS- — Sunset Waltz

Crowe rolled down her window with a sigh, folding her arm on top of it. “Man, it’s hot.”

“And likely to only get hotter as we approach the Disc,” Lunafreya said.

“Sounds like the Archaean took a page from the Infernian’s book.”

“It is the crystals from the Meteor that produce the heat. Even after all this time, they are still active, broken off into pieces when the Archaean took hold of the Meteor. He still carries it after all this time.”

“And we’re asking him to drop everything to have tea time with us. Got it,” Crowe said.

Lunafreya spoke with a faint smile. “Your sarcasm is noted.”

By now, she had understood that Crowe only expressed her worry; the prospect was daunting even to someone under the service of a king, and Lunafreya knew that every day they came nearer to the gods, Crowe grew more painfully aware that she was but one woman, and without the Crystal’s magic at that. How many times had Drautos told them—and Nyx especially—that they were nothing without King Regis? It had always angered her, seeming a cheap ploy to drive home the point that their purpose was to serve and protect their king, but she now felt more and more that he had been right, even if a liar and a traitor.

The sight of the Disc alone was humbling and nothing, no amount of harsh speeches from her former captain could have prepared her for how small and insignificant what awaited inside it made her feel. The Archaean was tall as a mountain, stretching out into the sky above them, and exuded godly power even as he slept. The air burned around them, set afire by the crystals into something harsh and stifling that made Crowe’s breathing laboured just by standing there, though perhaps it was in part due to fear.

Lunafreya, however, was undaunted. Sweat pearled upon her brow, but she stood with her back straight and her eyes firmly set upon the Archaean, wrapped in the draping white fabric she wore over her travel outfit in an impression of a dress.

“If you wish to leave and wait for me by the car,” Lunafreya said, turning to her one last time, “I will understand.”

Crowe shook her head. “I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.”

Had she felt the situation warranted a light-hearted comment, she might have asked “how bad can it be?” and referred to learning how to warp, but the atmosphere was much too reverent for Kingsglaive jokes. Crowe’s stomach twisted as Lunafreya began the sacred rite, standing just a few paces away from her ready to act. The air around them tensed and became heavier, stifling like the silence as Lunafreya’s voice echoed into nothing, calling the Archaean to wake.

The earth shook below them in a deep rumble that seemed as though it might tear the earth asunder—Lunafreya’s stance barely shifted—and the Archaean answered the call. Hearing his voice was the feeling of warping thousandfold: as the deep, garbled words tore through her ears, Crowe’s insides twisted and her head spun, followed by piercing pain. All of her muscles seized at once, burning with tension, until her legs could no longer hold her weight and she dropped to her knees, barely holding herself up on her hands, breathing hard through her mouth. The air burned her lungs.

Lunafreya’s voice was firm and distant, and the sound of Titan’s unknowable language deafening until they faded entirely from Crowe’s awareness. She only saw Luche standing above her, blocking out the sun with his face obscured by shadows. The gunshots were heavy but seemed so far away, though the pain was real and excruciating as the hollowpoints shattered inside her. Crowe screamed and screamed and _screamed_ , until her throat grew raw and Luche dug his boot into the wounds, crushing her. She couldn’t remember to play dead; not this time.

“Crowe,” Luche said, spitting her name like venom. Again and again as the minutes slipped from her, one by one. Then his voice softened and shifted into Lunafreya’s, pulling her back gently. “Crowe.”

She was kneeling beside her, one hand on her back and the other holding hers. Crowe blinked back the sting of sweat and tears from her eyes and croaked out, “Luna.”

“Yes. I’m here,” she said softly, reassuringly. More than ever, she seemed to glow. “Are you alright?”

Crowe gave a brief worn smile and admitted the truth that she didn’t want: “No, not really. But—you? Are you okay? Did it work?”

“I’m fine. The Archaean has accepted to help Noctis, should he prove himself worthy; I know that he will.”

Lunafreya’s unwavering faith in Prince Noctis made Crowe feel even more inadequate, somehow, even though she knew full well it had nothing to do with her. Their lives were far beyond hers, and her time with Lunafreya was only a glimpse into them. She began to push herself up to her feet and Lunafreya held on to her, helping her upright and keeping her watchful eyes on her. It was as though she saw the depth of her heart, right to the feeling that told her she wasn’t good enough—a voice that sounded eerily like that of Drautos.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. The voice of the gods should not be ours to hear—even for someone who was blessed with the Crystal’s magic by their king.”

“It’s not just that,” Crowe said, her voice sounding as tired to her ears as she felt. “I saw Luche again—I relived it like I do in my dreams, over and over again. It’s uncontrollable, and it takes over, and—and I’m afraid it’ll keep me from being able to protect you when it matters.”

“I do not share that concern; I know that my life is safe in your hands, and in my own,” Lunafreya said honestly. She squeezed Crowe’s hand and looked at her in the eye with a firm kindness. “It only pains me to know that you suffer so, but know that if you must lean on me, it will never be a burden. Your duty to me is mine to you.”

Crowe could have cried right then and there in front of the Archaean, standing motionless but whose glowing red eye watched, awakened. Instead, she only nodded with a small smile, pressing her forehead to Lunafreya’s for a moment, both burning hot from the crystals.

“I’m not sure ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ was what the king had in mind when he sent me to you, but—”

“And I am quite certain that King Regis knew I’ve a mind of my own. Come on.”

Remaining close to each other, they made their careful way back to the car and set out for the nearest outpost for a rest. The wind through the open windows on the road had never felt so good as it did then.

They ate at the local Crow’s Nest mostly in silence, only making the occasional comment about their surroundings as they regained their energy. Crowe’s hands only stopped shaking halfway through her meal, but she was happy when they did, and felt a little steadier on her feet when they stood to leave—only to feel her knees weaken again when they got outside and saw Niflheim soldiers patrolling the outpost.

“What are the Niffs doing here?” Crowe whispered through her teeth, keeping close to Lunafreya.

“Awakening the Archaean likely caused a great enough disturbance to attract their attention.”

“We have to get out of here.”

Nudging Lunafreya’s arm to urge her to follow, Crowe made to turn away as a soldier began to head in their direction, still far away enough that they might not have recognized the Oracle. But Lunafreya firmly gripped Crowe’s wrist to keep her there, moving so that they were facing each other.

“If we flee, they’ll make chase,” Lunafreya said before touching her fingers to Crowe’s jaw and kissing her full on the lips.

Crowe was stunned for a moment and felt her skin grow hot, then mustered up the courage to place her hands on Lunafreya’s waist, her grip soft despite the incredible tension in her body, unsure as she was to even touch her. The soldier passed them by without a glance, for they were in fact looking away.

“Nothing here,” they said to another. “Onward to the Disc, then. We’ve a blockade to set up.”

The two of them didn’t move until they heard the low hum of the magitek engine, then parted, Lunafreya looking flushed, flustered and relieved in equal parts. She smoothed down the front of her clothes in a graceful but slightly nervous gesture; Crowe, however, was mostly frozen in place, staring at her with her mind racing.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” Lunafreya explained, and Crowe didn’t understand she was quoting something until she added: “I saw that in a film.”

Crowe’s throat felt dry as she managed not only to simply speak, but to also make light of it. “You’d think the Oracle herself would be too busy for cheesy flicks.”

“I had spare time on occasion,” Lunafreya said with her cheeky smile as she got into the car.

Crowe didn’t stop thinking of that kiss the whole way to Altissia, and almost resented how quiet the rest of the journey there was for giving her this much time on her hands for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist sections:  
> Sunset Waltz — Waltzing amid Moonbeams -Valse di Fantastica-

Traveling at sea made Crowe nauseous, but had she been honest with herself, she might have admitted to her own heart that it wasn’t just mild seasickness. The truth of her thoughts was that the closer they grew to Altissia, the closer they came to the end of the road they shared: from then on, Crowe would have fulfilled her duty to her late king, and Lunafreya would have fulfilled her own to bring the Ring to Prince Noctis. She would resume her duties as Oracle, and Crowe would likely return to Insomnia.

She didn’t want to go back to a broken home. No matter what, home would always be wherever she could be with Libertus and Nyx, but the Kingsglaive and the Crown City had been her life—now, everything had changed, with the city torn apart, the king dead, the magic gone, and both the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive reduced to a handful of survivors. Crowe didn’t want to be a survivor; she wanted only to be.

And for now, that was being with Lunafreya, but there was something else bothering her, more and more as they came closer to Altissia.

“Hey, Princess,” Crowe said, as lightly as she could. Though she became more comfortable calling her Luna every day, calling her Princess had now become a way to be light-hearted, always said in a smiling tone. “I’ve been wondering about something.”

“You have been quiet. What is it?”

“Obviously the peace treaty was shot to hell when the Niffs decided to be—you know, Niffs. And your marriage to Prince Noctis was part of the terms, so…”

Lunafreya was looking at Crowe like she knew where she was going, but wanted to put off an answer as long as possible and found that letting Crowe finish talking was the best way to do it, even as she trailed off expectantly. She got up and came to stand beside Crowe at the railing, but gave no preemptive answer.

“Do you still want to get married to him? Did you ever? I mean, duty and peace terms and all that aside, what did you really want?” Crowe asked. “I hope I’m not out of line asking.”

“I must admit I had never seriously considered it until the peace terms were proposed. Knowing our families’ history, I suppose it could have been a possibility had my mother not been killed, but what cause the Empire had to see it happen, I couldn’t understand until we saw that it was all a ploy.”

Lunafreya paused, saw the curious look on Crowe’s face, and continued: “Noctis is very dear to me, has been since we were children, and will be always, no matter what our fates ask of us. I have no doubts that our marriage could have brought us happiness. However—and I tell you this in confidence—a wedding is the least of my worries at the moment. Not with all that we face, and all that I must do.”

“Yeah, priorities. You’ve definitely got bigger fish to fry,” Crowe said, a smile growing on her lips. “You know. ‘Cause the Hydraean’s a big fish.”

Lunafreya grinned, shaking her head as she poorly attempted to hold back a chuckle. “Do be more careful with your language around open waters, unless you want to cause Leviathan offence and get your charge killed.”

“Hey, that’s not a good joke.”

Even though she said so playfully, the very idea of losing Lunafreya chilled Crowe to the bone; thinking of simply being away from her was already hard enough on its own.

“Isn’t it? And here I was, trying to emulate you.”

The two of them shared a smile, and Crowe bumped her shoulder against Lunafreya’s.

***

When the port of Altissia came into view and its details became better defined, Crowe had to pick her jaw up off the floor of their boat to focus on what was coming. As the wind whipped the hair that framed her face against her skin, she pushed herself off from where she gripped the railing to go stand by Lunafreya, who sat looking out into the distance.

“So, I had my orders from the king on what to do when we arrived here for your wedding, but the situation’s changed, so it’s your choice: either we go in incognito and find Prince Noctis ourselves somehow—or wait for him, since I doubt he’s any number of steps ahead of us—or I just announce you and we deal with what comes next. Lots of unknowns both ways.”

“Accordo may be under imperial rule, but it, and Altissia especially, is largely independent; I believe we can trust First Secretary Claustra. We will more easily obtain an audience should we announce ourselves straight away. Does this suit you?”

“Like I said before, you’re the boss,” Crowe said, almost commenting on how she had certainly showed her that back in Cleigne, but still not finding the courage to bring up the kiss. She’d been spending enough time telling herself that it had only been a successful diversionary tactic; instead of dwelling on it anymore, she pulled her Kingsglaive patch out of her pocket and busied herself with getting the straps around her arm.

“Do you need help with that?” Lunafreya asked after a few moments of watching her fiddle with it.

“I’m not about to make the Oracle play handmaiden to me.”

“Oh, please,” Lunafreya said with a slight scoff, standing to move closer to her. “I know how to close a buckle. Here, allow me.”

Crowe raised her arm a little to give Lunafreya access, and the patch was secured quickly around her arm; Lunafreya patted her shoulder to signify the completion of her task. 

“There. You look very noble, and I’ve no broken fingers,” she said teasingly, and Crowe matched her tone.

“Good. I couldn’t have forgiven myself.”

They fell silent, smiling, remaining close to each other as Lunafreya kept her hand on Crowe’s arm, a wordless request not to move away. Then, though there was no diversion to make, though it was only the two of them with nothing around that demanded they hide, she kissed Crowe again—softly, genuinely, and from her racing heart.

She pulled away to give Crowe a faint smile, certain and hesitant all at the same time. “In spite of all the horrors that have befallen our world, having you by my side has been a blessing.”

In that moment, there was only Lunafreya; no hum from the boat’s engine, no waves rocking it and lapping at its sides, no wind in Crowe’s ears. Only her, shining in the sunlight, and the fact that they had found each other. This time, Crowe felt no hesitation—in fact, she had never been more certain of her heartbeat as she cupped Lunafreya’s face and pressed her lips to hers, their hearts meeting halfway. It was the most peace either of them had known in weeks, even if it was only to be so temporary.

The boat slowed, navigating from the open waters into a smaller canal mounted with great stone statues that narrowed the way into the port. Feeling the shadows shift on her face, Crowe opened her eyes and moved away, catching a lingering smile filled with serenity on Lunafreya’s lips and reaching to squeeze her hand.

“Altissia really is beautiful,” Crowe said, feeling as though she floated between planes of reality. The present would soon bear its harsh light down upon her, but momentarily, she could almost imagine that the circumstances were different. She could almost let herself be breathless.

“Yes, it is.”

They came to the port itself and the ferry driver whose services they had rented pulled his boat to a stop, distantly exchanging farewells with Crowe from his cabin down from the deck, away from the elements. Climbing off onto the dock first, Crowe held out her hand for Lunafreya in order to help her down. Lunafreya curled her pinky finger around hers for just a moment before letting go, standing straight with both hands holding the straps of her luggage in front of her.

“What’s your business here?” the port officer asked Crowe as she stepped forward towards the gates.

“Crowe Altius of the Lucian Kingsglaive,” she said, angling her shoulder with the insignia towards them, “escorting the Oracle Lunafreya from Insomnia.”

“Lady Lunafreya,” the officer said, their eyes widening as soon as they properly saw the Kingsglaive crest and glanced at Lunafreya. They hurriedly bowed and reached for their phone. “It is an honour; welcome to Altissia. You may pass, of course, and I shall notify the First Secretary of your arrival. Please, take a seat over there. It’ll be but a moment, my lady.”

“I’m in no hurry. Thank you,” Lunafreya said, ever so kind, gently bowing her head. She did as she was bid and crossed the open barrier to sit on a bench by a low wall, just a few steps away, while Crowe stood, pacing with her hands behind her back.

“You certainly look very official.”

“Just doing my job, Princess,” Crowe said with a small smile reserved just for her.

The port officer popped their head out of the booth at the gate. “Someone will be there to escort you shortly, Lady Lunafreya.”

“Thank you,” she said once again.

Crowe observed her surroundings as they waited: though certainly not on the same scale as the Crown City, she already found better ease in the bustling here than in the calm of what she had seen in Tenebrae. The air was clean and invigorating (if with a note of essence of sewer), filled with a sort of energy that made her feel as though everyone around her were on vacation—and perhaps it was the case in this part of the city, so close to the port docks.

Someone was there to meet them shortly indeed: a guard with a no-nonsense look to her, flanking a man in a suit who introduced himself as First Secretary Claustra’s personal assistant, came to escort Lunafreya to their employer’s estate within minutes.

“It is a great joy to have you arriving safe in Altissia, Lady Lunafreya. The journey from Insomnia must have been harrowing,” he said, then glanced at Crowe. “Kingsglaive, I believe?”

“Yes, sir. Crowe Altius. I was sent by King Regis to escort Lady Lunafreya.”

“Yes, yes, may his soul rest in peace. Altissia thanks you for your service to the lady Oracle.”

With the tone he took, Crowe had the impression that he was almost dismissing her from her duties. She was half-ready to shoot back that only Lunafreya or her king’s successor could clear her orders, but he said nothing else to her; in fact, he more or less acted as though she wasn’t there at all.

First Secretary Claustra, at least, was more diplomatically cordial: she received both Lunafreya and Crowe alone in her office and gave them the polite formalities, then told them she was honoured to offer them both lodgings at her estate. Crowe was glad for it; though her escort mission was essentially over, she considered that she still had a guard duty towards Lunafreya, and staying in the same building was the best way to do her job.

It wasn’t over, not until the Ring was delivered to Prince Noctis and the sacred rite to awaken the Hydraean completed; from there, Lunafreya would decide where she went, and what would become of Crowe hinged on that decision. Knowing that she had a duty to focus on for the next few days at least reassured Crowe, giving her a path to walk on that she could see ahead of for a bit longer. So long as she could focus on this, she could keep her uncertainty for the future at bay.

“I have a matter of great import to discuss with you, if you have the time,” Lunafreya said once the niceties were out of the way. Standing behind where Lunafreya sat, hands behind her back as usual, Crowe caught the first secretary’s eyes briefly flick up towards her.

“I’m afraid I have little time to spare in my schedule for the day,” she said, putting on an apologetic face. “But I have an inkling of what you want to ask, and this matter is one I want to fully devote my attention to with you, Lady Lunafreya. We could dine together, tonight, and discuss it at length.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Lunafreya said, politely bowing her head for the upteenth time that day; Crowe’s neck ached for her, but she had her own back to worry about. How long had it been since the last time she’d had proper guard duty?

“Very well; I look forward to it. It is an honour to receive you. Before I let you get settled in—you must be tired from your trip—I wish to say something,” the first secretary said, clasping her hands together on her desk and looking gravely at the both of them. “I want you to know that you can feel perfectly safe here, in my estate as much as my city.”

“I have no doubts to the contrary,” Lunafreya said.

Crowe just gave a nod; she didn’t quite trust the first secretary any more than she trusted Tenebrae as an imperial territory. After more pleasantries, they were led out of her office to be shown their quarters, and Crowe permitted herself to walk in step with Lunafreya, rather than behind her.

“That woman does not want me there when you talk to her about the Hydraean,” she said quietly.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that as well. You are a symbol of Lucis—moreover, of King Regis himself, and you have personally fought in battles against imperial troops. Accordo may be independent, but it is not free. We are all aware of it, and she knows that well. Else she wouldn’t have felt such a need to tell us we were safe.”

“I’ll stand guard outside the dining room tonight.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid standing guard will be much of your duties in the coming days,” Lunafreya said, almost apologetically. “But I shall feel safer knowing that you are.”

“Like I said: I’m not going anywhere.”

Standing in plain sight like this, all they could exchange was a smile.

***

The days spent on the road between Tenebrae and Altissia had been enough to undo the habit Crowe had taken for comfort while staying at Fenestala Manor. That night, she lay awake, her body sunken into the pillows and mattress, and watched the shadows move on the ceiling from the light that came through the crack underneath her door.

Sleep refused to come; her mind kept racing. She tried to convince herself that she would see Lunafreya in her dreams, and maybe even kiss her, but that didn’t help to keep her eyes closed. Instead, she just kept replaying their moment on the boat in her head, smiling goofily. But it wasn’t all she thought of—the wanderings of her mind went to happiness, to dread, to longing; back and forth between the highs and the lows, thinking of Lunafreya, Nyx and Libertus, Luche and Drautos, First Secretary Claustra, and even King Regis and Prince Noctis themselves.

It was exhausting, and yet not enough to let her sleep. So she pushed herself out of bed, put on her jacket over the loose tank top she wore to bed, and pulled on some decent pants and her boots to wander out into the streets.

Altissia was mesmerizing by night. Though a little quieter than in daytime, the city was still very much awake; in keeping with the vacationlike mood, people were out and about taking strolls, eating late and drinking. Crowe explored the maze of walkways at the leisurely pace of the locals (or the tourists; she still wasn’t entirely sure she could tell the difference) and, coming to a map, decided to take the gondola to the local bar. She had barely set foot inside Maagho when someone called out to her in a stage whisper.

“Psst, Glaive.”

Even if she had wanted to lie low, she wouldn’t have been able to; she reacted on instinct, turning her attention towards the source of the voice before she could think not to. He stood behind the counter, leaning towards her with one arm on its surface.

“You Crowe Altius?”

It could have been a trap, somehow. It could have. But still, she answered: “What’s it to you?”

“The name is Weskham; I’m an old acquaintance of your late king. Got something here for you from the Crown City.”

He reached under the bar and placed a supple package on top of the counter between them, marked with her name on the brown paper. As she began to cautiously open it, still not feeling completely at ease, he spoke casually—though there was something at the back of his tone of voice that didn’t sound quite as unaffected as he wanted it to be.

“I must say, to be honest, I didn’t think you were going to show, with all that’s happened in Insomnia. Glad to know that at least one of the good ones made it.”

“I was lucky. The king sent me out of the city to come here before it happened,” Crowe let slip, but gave little more away as she finally caught a glimpse at the contents of the package.

Pushing away the wrappings, she was touching a Kingsglaive guard uniform: crisp, clean, and jet black—brand new. She took out the jacket and held it at arm’s length, feeling moved by the very sight of it. Rather than the short, high-collared jacket with the red cape that the women wore, this was the most standard issue: long, straight, with its military buttons and the intricate grey design on the back. It seemed to have been tailored to her exact measurements. Remaining inside the package were the undershirt with the sword symbol, black pants, black fingerless gloves, and black boots.

Someone, somewhere, had known that she would stand in Altissia with the prince and the Oracle, and decided that she should look the part.

“You certainly look as though you haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” Weskham commented.

“Weeks,” she said. She looked at the wrappings for information, but found only her name handwritten in bold black letters. “Do you know who sent this?”

“Afraid not. All I know is it came from the Citadel.”

Had she not known the truth about her former captain, she might have thought that it had been Drautos’ doing, but it made no sense. Why waste resources on having a brand new uniform tailored for her and delivered privately to Altissia if he was going to have her killed before she even reached Tenebrae? Maybe Luche had acted alone, then, but that didn’t make any more sense, not with how far he’d always had his nose up Drautos’ ass. Her attempted murder had to have been on his orders.

“Did it come from someone in the Glaive, you think?”

“Not that I know of; it seems to have come from higher up. Crownsguard, maybe.”

“Maybe,” she said contemplatively, knowing that not having an answer would continue to bother her for a good while. Still, she felt better somehow to feel the fabric under her hand and to know that someone, before Drautos had decided that she should die, had believed that she would successfully make it to Altissia with Lunafreya to represent Lucis and her king. For the first time in weeks, she finally felt whole—she finally felt a Glaive again.

She headed back to the first secretary’s estate with the package and tried on the uniform, finding that it fit her perfectly, then swapped the shoulder patch on the jacket for Libertus’, straps and all. Before settling into bed, she lay Nyx’s kukri on top of the neatly folded pile, which she kept in her direct line of sight from the bed.

And then she fell asleep, almost immediately.

***

The next morning, Lunafreya appeared outside her door just as she was about to put on her jacket, and seemed mildly surprised.

“May I come in?”

Crowe gestured for her to enter, then stepped away to leave the decision whether or not to close the door to Lunafreya. She did.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went to that popular bar on a whim. Maagho, I think?” Crowe began to explain before Lunafreya even asked. “Turns out the owner, Weskham, he was close with King Regis back in the day. Apparently someone had this delivered to him for me.”

“Who did?”

“Even he didn’t know, but he seemed pretty convinced it wasn’t from the Kingsglaive. I mean, it’s Glaive issue, but the person who took care of it was someone higher up, apparently.”

“You must feel honoured.”

“Yeah, you have no idea,” Crowe said, putting on the jacket and straightening out the sleeves from the cuffs before holding out her arms in a simple pose. “How do I look?”

Lunafreya took a few steps forward towards her so that she could touch the fabric of the jacket, straightening out the lapels as an excuse to touch Crowe; it was incredibly transparent, and it filled her with joy. “Quite handsome.”

“Back to you, Princess. As always,” Crowe grinned, and they met halfway for a kiss. “I forgot to say good morning.”

“Good morning,” Lunafreya said with a smile before kissing her again.

“What’s on the schedule today?”

“Precious little. I am to meet with Camelia again to discuss the awakening of the Hydraean some more, as well as a few other matters. I think she wishes to officially announce my presence here and arrange for me to deliver a speech as Oracle, but things will otherwise remain quiet until Noctis arrives.”

“I can’t tell if I’m happy to catch a bit of break or just getting antsier.”

“I feel the same,” Lunafreya said, looking torn. As always. “I think I shall feel lighter once this is all over.”

Crowe nodded and took her hand. “You’ll get through it. _We’ll_ get through it. Just a little more and you’ll be able to breathe a little better, at least.”

Her words at least seemed to provide encouragement that she would soon find relief, if not the relief itself, and Lunafreya placed a kiss on the top of Crowe’s hand before moving to sit down in a chair by the window. Crowe began to pull on and lace up her boots.

She watched her thoughtfully, with an otherwise unreadable expression when Crowe glanced over at her, then asked, in a conversational tone: “Where will you go, once this is all over?”

“I don’t know,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation, shrugging as though dismissive of her own doubts. “Wherever I’m needed. Wherever Nyx and Libertus are—Insomnia if they’re still there and I can get in; if not, then they’ll be back in Galahd, I imagine. Where we’ll go from there, I don’t know either. The Kingsglaive has been my life—our life—for years, and I thought it would stay that way for some while more, so long as I didn’t die at my post.”

“I understand,” Lunafreya said, nodding sympathetically. “I don’t think I would be so certain of my path if I suddenly lost my duties as Oracle. At any rate, I should like to take Libertus up on his offer to see him in Galahd.”

Crowe straightened up so fast she was almost light-headed. “You mean you’d want to come with me to Galahd?”

“I follow my calling. Galahd might need me as Oracle, and a small visit can’t hurt.”

“But I thought—what about Prince Noctis?”

Lunafreya’s expression saddened, but remained hard with determination. Crowe felt guilty for even asking. “He is on a path that is his own, and with which mine converges on occasion. He must fulfill his duty, and I believe I will have done all I can do help him do so for now. With the Ring, the power of the old Lucian kings, and those of the Six, he will have all he needs to ascend. But these are his steps to take.”

“So it’ll be back to the good old Oracle blessing tour duties for you?”

“If all is right, yes.”

It was like seeing a bit of light at the end of a long and dark tunnel, but if Crowe had been a betting woman, she might have known to bet against hoping that all would simply be right.

***

Though Prince Noctis and his party seemed to have attempted to enter Altissia unnoticed, the upper echelons of the city knew of his presence much quicker than he likely had hoped. That day, Crowe heard talk around the first secretary’s estate that she had gone to greet him in person, finding him fresh off the docks at Maagho.

Things moved fast, too fast, and too far behind Crowe’s back—and even Lunafreya’s. They were in the middle of dinner when Claustra stopped in, announcing that she had news for Lunafreya.

“Good news,” she assured them, lifting a finger as precision. “I have met with Prince Noctis and discussed terms, as well as an arrangement: I have decided to allow you to proceed with the ritual to wake the Hydraean.”

“Noctis was here?” asked Lunafreya, the surprise clear on her face. “Why was I not made aware of this? I should have liked to be present for these negotiations.”

“Oh, you were busy, I’m afraid. Besides—you, as Oracle, had already convinced me on your end. It was the future King of Lucis I needed to entreat with, for reasons of governance. I’m sure you understand. Is your speech ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tomorrow, then, you shall finally make your address to the people.”

Lunafreya didn’t look quite happy, but she was good at masking her emotions; the first secretary likely didn’t notice the strain Crowe saw in her smile. “Thank you, First Secretary.”

“And I thank you, Lady Lunafreya. Good night.”

With that, she was gone, and Crowe watched as frustration passed across Lunafreya’s face. “Are you starting to like her less and less?”

“As rude as it is to admit within her own walls—yes.”

***

Crowe knew something was horribly wrong the moment she came out of her room, already in full uniform, and nearly barreled into a faceless bucket-head of an imperial soldier. She said nothing, and neither did they, but they got to see surprise and brief fear pass across her face before giving way to insolence, while she saw nothing but unmoving steel. A hidden face was a tactical advantage, and she suddenly missed the hood of her battle gear, with the scarf she could pull over the lower half of her face—she missed veiling her expression with shadows, that the Niffs might not see her vulnerability.

Here, she was barer than ever: in her uniform, in her feelings, in her distance from Insomnia and in the death of her king, the loss of his magic. Did the soldier facing her realize all this, or were they simply a vessel for orders who left the thinking to those truly responsible for destroying so many Lucian lives?

No matter how much Crowe wanted answers, or simply just to get back into the fight, she couldn’t afford time nor attention to the trained anger, the reactive thought of broken bodies and the broken Galahd of her brothers that burned in her heart. She could only steel herself, straightening her back and dropping her shoulders, to step aside and let the soldier pass opposite her as she headed towards Lunafreya’s quarters.

Her first intention had been to slip inside her room and greet her as they had done for the past few days—and maybe, if she found the courage in light of the daunting shifts that day would bring her world before sunset, to tell Lunafreya of everything to the depth of her heart, to give words to what she only had shown her in silence with her body. But whatever courage she had, she lost when the threat fell on her shoulders, and she refused to be blindsided ever again, so she stood guard outside Lunafreya’s door until she came out.

Lunafreya didn’t seem surprised; somehow, she already knew. “I imagine you’ve seen the first secretary’s new guests.”

“What the hell are the Niffs doing here?” Crowe found herself asking again.

“Exercising their authority,” Lunafreya said, looking grim. “It appears that though we have been one step ahead of them, they have been one step ahead of Noctis. They want something with the Astrals—and this time, they seem to want to have the best available seats to the Hydraean’s awakening. So much for Camelia’s assurances that we were safe.”

Crowe felt her stomach drop; she likely wasn’t about to get much in for breakfast. “You feel you’re not?”

“I do not know.”

Even if she was in the presence of the Oracle, a former princess, and—as surreal as that sounded—her lover, Crowe couldn’t help but let out an undignified curse.

“Can I speak to you as a Glaive for a minute?” she asked after a moment’s consideration, continuing when Lunafreya gave a nod. “I don’t want to give you orders as myself, but—we need to get something clear today. You have to stay close to me. If you’re out of my sight, or out of earshot, you are too far from me.”

“It is not my intention to leave your side,” Lunafreya said with another nod, looking straight ahead.

For much of the time they had for the rest of the morning, Crowe thought she might be able to stay on top and keep control of the situation, despite the perpetually charged air of tension and urgency that followed them. But of course she was wrong.

Less than two hours before Lunafreya was to deliver her address, none other than her brother Ravus showed up at the first secretary’s estate, requesting a private audience with her. He was accompanied by a man Crowe recognized slowly, like a picture gradually coming into focus: Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. She had seen him once, on the news, shortly before leaving for Tenebrae—he was the envoy from the Empire come to Insomnia to offer the peace terms that had brought her to this very moment.

He had seemed crooked to her then, on the screen, and he did even more in the flesh. There was a constant little smile on his face, as though he were in on a joke no one else knew—and maybe he was—and it unsettled Crowe to no end, how he put on a charming face but made no effort to lay any of his cards on the table. Ravus, at his side, looked utterly lost, even defeated; the worry for his sister that haunted his thoughts but that he had kept close to his chest, he now wore clear across his face.

That honesty was what helped Crowe swallow her own worry when Lunafreya accepted to see him alone, with her standing guard outside the room as she had all her private meetings since arriving in Altissia.

“I’ll be but a door away,” Lunafreya said to her in a low, reassuring voice, throwing one wary glance over at Ardyn before promptly shutting the door behind her brother.

Crowe felt the chancellor’s gaze on her. He didn’t give her the impression that he was to stay and wait for Ravus, but he certainly took his sweet time leaving. Something about his very aura made her skin crawl.

“Kingsglaive,” he said in a conversationally sing-song tone. Crowe kept her gaze straight ahead, even as he took a few steps forward in her direction and clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. Why did he make her fingers itch for the dagger at her back, just above where her hands were clasped together? “A sword without a king to wield her. Such a pity.”

With that, he sauntered out of the room and, she hoped, out of their lives.

Ravus emerged some time later—Crowe had been taught better than to look at her watch during guard duty, even if she was positively certain there was not a soul around to see her do so—but didn’t leave without looking at her as she expected. He stood beside her, very dignified, and met her gaze steadily.

“Keep Lunafreya safe,” he said—worded like an order, but voiced very much like a plea. 

The way she addressed him in return tasted sour, for she would not forget his position for a single second, but with Lunafreya so close, it only was right. At least they had her in common. “I will, my lord.”

Lunafreya didn’t call her in, soft-voiced and lost in thought, until the metal sound of his footsteps had faded entirely to silence. Crowe stepped inside the room and laid a hand on the door handle, wordlessly asking a question that was answered with but a nod; she closed the door behind her and went down on one knee in front of where Lunafreya sat.

“How are you feeling?”

“Many ways,” Lunafreya admitted with a sad, tired smile. Her hands slipped into Crowe’s as she pressed their foreheads together, closing her eyes.

“You’ll do great. All you’ve got to focus on is the Ring and the Hydraean; let me worry about the rest.”

And Crowe certainly worried enough for the both of them. Too soon, First Secretary Claustra joined them in the room, at which point Crowe went to stand behind Lunafreya’s seat to once again be invisible to the first secretary’s eyes. She went through the bare minimum in the way of apologies in regards to the sudden imperial presence, and Crowe wasn’t certain whether she was truly bothered by it or if she had some sort of strategy in mind that she obviously wasn't sharing with her guests. Just what arrangements had she made with Prince Noctis?

“I have something I believe belongs to you,” Claustra said, briefly glancing down at her phone to tap a finger on the screen. In just a few moments, an attendant appeared at the door, carrying a trident to hand over to the first secretary, who in turn handed it to Lunafreya. Seeing a weapon in the room alone set Crowe on edge, but she felt better knowing that it ended up in her hands, not anyone else’s.

“The Trident of the Oracle,” Lunafreya said, bewildered.

“It has been in Altissia for a few years now; I thought it would only be fitting to put it back in the Oracle’s possession on an auspicious day such as today.”

“I will use it well. Thank you.”

From then on, the conversation somehow grew strangely tense. Everything First Secretary Claustra said felt heavy, veiled in something Crowe couldn’t trust—and when she told Lunafreya ominously that her public awaited and a pack of Imperials poured into the room after she had stood and left, Crowe was proven right. 

Though they put their guns on Lunafreya, she didn’t even flinch, certainly not as much as Crowe jerked to put herself between a few of them with a hand on the hilt of Nyx’s kukri at her thigh. All she did was stand, looking straight ahead, swatting the barrels of several guns out of her way as one might a bothersome fly in a graceful gesture as she walked out of the room. Crowe threw a threatening glare around her for good measure, then followed to stand behind her in the light of day.

Once again, Crowe saw firsthand what Lunafreya meant to the people, this time on an even grander scale. Several hundred people stood in the plaza below her, spilling out as far as the eye could see and clamouring in their love for her—welcoming the hope and healing she represented. As she began to speak, they listened raptly. Crowe let herself glance for a moment at the straight line of her back, the way she rooted herself down into the ground, before focusing back to the crowd and their surroundings, scanning for threats.

It wasn’t a threat she found—quite the opposite: it was Prince Noctis, standing dressed all in the royal black that the Crownsguard matched, brightly dark amidst the Altissian crowd. Had she not felt for Lunafreya the way she did, she might have been stricken by how grimy and world-weary he appeared now in comparison to the last time she had caught a glimpse of him in Insomnia; what she saw instead was the way he looked at her, as though there was no one else in the universe at that moment.

Crowe felt something sink inside her. He saw the same light that she did, like the moon against a velvet-black sky, and he was the night that welcomed her. There was no doubt in her mind that he loved her: distantly, as though in a dream or a memory, but no less fiercely for it. Who was Crowe, but the shadow of a bird’s wing on the night sky?

Had he done all this for her, the way Lunafreya had done all this for him? (Crowe forgot, as she lost her thoughts in the sight of Prince Noctis losing himself in Lunafreya, that all she did, she did for the future—not for Noctis alone.)

Lunafreya kept on speaking of hope, of never stopping until the darkness was banished from their world, and Prince Noctis kept on watching her. Crowe was somewhere out beyond the two of them, garbed in her Kingsglaive uniform, with the Draconian on her shoulder surrounded by his swords, and this was what she felt she was: a sword. She was not the day, not the sun, not the night or the moon; she was but a blade.

Cheers erupted as Lunafreya’s voice fell to silence and Crowe realized that Lunafreya’s gaze had found his when she saw him give a nod and something that looked almost like a smile. She didn’t see how Lunafreya looked at him, but then she turned, and Crowe saw what mattered: the way she looked at _her_. And it made her feel like the wing on the sky had become its brightest star, tucking herself against the moon so that they might shine together and share their light.

Crowe laid a hand on Lunafreya’s back as she turned to lead her back inside, to the outside observer at least. For the two of them alone, the touch was more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist sections:  
> The Hydraean's Wrath — Prayer de LUNA
> 
> This chapter contains elements of violence.

Imperial warships flew over the city in droves as Lunafreya and Crowe were taken to the Altar of the Tidemother, upon which the ritual was to be completed. Crowe had never seen so many in one sky without a full contingent of fellow Kingsglaive at her side and now, alone, she missed all of them more than ever. She felt so desperate, filled with crashing waves of doubt, that she might even have taken Luche at her side (even if the thought only made her sick, that she wasn’t good enough to do this on her own, without someone like him)—but more than ever, she missed those that she could trust with her life.

Libertus. Nyx. Pelna. All of the women, her friends, with whom she had always shared the burden of some of the world’s most powerful magic not wielded by the King of Lucis himself.

But she had only herself to trust, for Lunafreya trusted only her at her side. While Crowe wrung her hands and chewed her lips and checked the sharpness of her blades several more times than necessary, Lunafreya was calm and collected, with not a single wrinkle of a frown on her brow. She was prepared and ready, as though she had been born to live this very day—and perhaps she had.

“Crowe,” she said at length as the altar came into view. She lay a hand on top of hers to calm her nervous fingers. “Earlier today, you spoke to me as Kingsglaive. Now I must speak to you—as Oracle to Glaive.”

“What is it?”

“You priority may well be to keep me safe, but only so long as my safety ensures both of our purposes here: to give the Ring to Noctis, and to convince the Hydraean to lend him her power. You must do as I tell you, even if you believe it might put my safety at risk during the ritual.”

Lunafreya spoke calmly, her every word level and carefully weighed; it only made Crowe more tense, but she still took care not to show it, though she couldn’t contain her disbelief.

“You mean I should let you get hurt just so that Prince Noctis—”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

“Luna—”

“Please. I’m not asking you to do it without question—only that you follow this order. It is the only one I have for you.”

Crowe nodded, her mouth tight, giving up on her protests. She tried to speak lightly, as though this didn’t bother her, but her voice only remained grim. “You got it, Princess.”

“Thank you. I shall endeavour to remain close to you as we agreed.”

The boat took them to a ruined structure on the water, much too small in comparison to the openness of the sea. Lunafreya climbed up its high steps until she stood at the very edge of the altar, with the trident in her hand and Crowe standing a few steps behind her.

“Are we ready to begin?” she asked Crowe over her shoulder.

“You know I’m ready when you are.”

And ready she was.

The ritual with the Hydraean began as did the Archaean’s and the Fulgurian’s: with Lunafreya’s strong, clear voice calling her firmly but respectfully, followed by a tense moment of silence. Then the stone under their feet began to shake and Leviathan rose out of the water with a rumble, towering over the city as she stretched her serpentine body up to the heavens. The warped nonsense of the gods’ language was a shaking echo in Crowe’s ears, raw and aggressive—though she remained on her feet this time, rooted deep into the ground in her hypervigilance, so that she could witness the way the Hydraean replied with what seemed to her as anger.

Lunafreya was not shaken. She was ready to fight for what she believed in, ready to bend even a god to her will with her words alone. She was tempered steel, unflinching as the Hydraean lunged at her, raising a cruel wave of water that went crashing against the rock around them and destroying the pillars at its sides. The force of it stung even Crowe as Lunafreya parried with the trident in front of her, fending off most of the attack.

Crowe was privy only to Lunafreya’s words as the argument stretched on between her and the Astral, but it was clear that the Hydraean was enraged. She lunged again, hitting the altar with her full weight this time; Crowe ran forward and shielded some of the blow from Lunafreya, pain shooting through her body. Taking a deep breath against her, Lunafreya slammed the trident into the ground below and pushed up against Leviathan. As she threw her back and away from them, a beam of blinding light shot up from the weapon into the sky, and Crowe had to briefly shield her eyes from it.

The trident slammed into the ground. “Leviathan!”

Lunafreya’s voice, in all its resounding power, shook even Crowe. She stood on shaky legs, pushed the drenched strands of hair out of her eyes, and saw that the waves began to rise around the Hydraean in a maelstrom as the imperial ships circled her and the partly shattered altar.

Crowe raised her hands on instinct. There was no rationality to the thought that the magic might come back to her if she willed it enough, not when all she could see in her mind was an inferno or a violent lightning storm. Palms toward the skies, fingers hard as claws, Crowe tried to summon the memory of magic from deep inside her body as the walls of water climbed ever higher and the sky grew darker, but only silence answered her call.

She had nothing but Nyx’s kukri at her thigh and her small dagger behind her back, and her life, to defend Lunafreya’s if she must.

An airborne imperial vehicle whizzed past them and Crowe moved to put herself between Lunafreya and the sea as the Hydraean raged. Then she saw as Prince Noctis jumped into the empty air, landing upon Leviathan.

“Crowe,” Lunafreya said urgently, reaching with her free hand to grab Crowe’s wrist. “Take the Ring to Noctis.”

No space for protest; Crowe had given her word. Lunafreya pushed the ring into her palm and closed her fingers around it, one-handed as she kept a firm grasp on her trident, expecting the Hydraean to strike again at any time. Crowe began to jog away, but stopped and turned, regardless of how terrible her timing was.

The words slipped out of her as all the air left her lungs, letting go, letting them into the wind. “Hey, Princess! I love you.”

And then she kept on running, flying down the stairs with the air whipping at her face sharp as knives and the sea salt stinging her eyes until she reached the edge of the water. She spotted the young man all in black who piloted whatever it was that had flown Noctis right to the Hydraean, just above her.

“Hey! Crownsguard!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, flagging him down and then pointing at the crest on her shoulder. “Kingsglaive—I need a ride!”

He seemed to hesitate in mid-air for a moment, but saw her alone on the ruins with Lunafreya and swooped down towards her, barely slowing down as they grasped each other’s forearms and she swung on behind him.

“I didn’t know any of you were still alive,” he said breathlessly over his shoulder. Crowe was familiar with his face from the prince’s entourage, but couldn’t remember his name; only that he was more a friend than Crownsguard proper, though brave enough nonetheless.

“Yeah, well, I managed somehow. Lucky for my future king, ‘cause I’ve got a gift for him,” Crowe said, her voice loud over the chaos. She grasped his shoulders hard. “Think you can get me to him on this?”

“I can try—” he began to say, but a strong wave caught them off guard as it hit them both, and they tumbled off the vehicle onto a street on the edge of the water that was mostly rubble now. Crowe pushed herself to her feet then helped him up, searching the nearby buildings for a sign of Prince Noctis.

She saw him freefalling, then warping long before he could hit the water, leaving behind a trail of magic to land up above them across a stretch of water. Only one way up. Crowe began to back away as far opposite Noctis’ position as she could.

“Got something you could boost me up with?”

“I got this,” the young Crownsguard said, conjuring a large black piece of machinery from thin air into his hands. Of course—though Noctis was not yet king, he could still lend some of the power of the Lucian royal line to his allies.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Ready?”

He didn’t seem too confident in Crowe’s plan, but nodded nonetheless. With one deep breath, Crowe sprinted towards him and gathered all the speed and force she could in her legs, jumping onto the large weapon and soaring as he launched her into the air. She gripped the ledge with a heavy groan, pain shooting up her fingers, but she ignored it so that she could pull herself up. She got one leg up on the ledge and tightened her core, rolling up onto the firm ground and wasting no time on her back before getting to her feet.

Her body already ached, and the wounds in her abdomen screamed with the agony of memory. Prince Noctis was just a few feet from her now, pushing himself up as she just had. There was no time to waste.

He was still on his knees, holding himself up on his sword, as Crowe rushed to him and sank down to his level. “Prince Noctis.”

The recognition was clear in his eyes as he saw her uniform; recognition not of Crowe herself, but of what she represented. “You—”

“I have something for you from Lady Lunafreya,” she said, pushing the ring into his hand. She could barely catch her breath, her throat tight as she spoke. “And your father.”

“Luna—? Dad,” he said, looking down at the ring and closing his fist around it. Before he could thank her, a new wave shook the ledge they were on and cold water splashed up to them. Crowe walked forward and peered over to the altar where Lunafreya stood, though she leaned on the trident for support now more than before.

“I have to get back to her,” she said quickly, moving back towards Noctis. “Prince Noctis, I have to get back to Lady Lunafreya. The only way is for me to warp. I need the blessing. I need magic, please.”

He seemed hesitant, and rightly so, as though he didn’t seem to believe that he could do it; Crowe asked much of him. It was a request fit for a king, and she might have been indulgent had the situation been otherwise. She certainly wouldn’t have demanded anything of the crown prince of Lucis the way she did now.

“She needs me,” Crowe insisted, grabbing his shoulders. “She needs _you_. You have to be the man she knows you can be, right here, right now. For her sake.”

Noctis stared into Crowe’s eyes for a moment and gripped her arm. He didn’t have his father’s experience, nor his control; he was young, and let go of the magic all at once. It surged through her—blinding and all-encompassingly warm and like a punch to the gut all at the same time, making her gasp and cough until she caught her wheezing breath.

Her veins were as though alight. Sparing just a moment to test that she wouldn’t attempt to warp and just watch her knife fall down away from her, she lifted a hand and watched as flames danced from her palm, mesmerizing.

“Thank you—Your Majesty.”

Noctis nodded, and Crowe gave him a hand to stand before walking to the edge of the ledge, eyes set on the altar. She unsheathed Nyx’s kukri and raised it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the flat of the blade and tossing it into the air, towards Lunafreya. Her body followed it, travelling across the space between her and the weapon in the blink of an eye so that her fingers might close around the hilt.

Her stomach flipped every which way and her head swam, but as she plummeted down into the raging winds she threw the blade again, hitting the end of the ruins from where she had jumped up. The landing didn’t go as smoothly as she has hoped, and she barreled on the stone until she got herself on all fours. She vomited into the water, one small and mostly unintentional middle finger to the Hydraean for her attacks on Lunafreya. Dragging herself to her feet and wiping her mouth, she threw a spell up to the edge of the altar so that a wall of fire stood between Lunafreya and Leviathan in a momentary shield.

“I’m here, Luna,” she tried to call out, but her voice didn’t reach her; it fell at her feet like a tiny spark. Her feet stumbled on the stone, slowly, not far enough, and she didn’t get to the stairs, not straight away, for she was stopped first.

Nyx.

He stood in front of her, though not as he should: he almost dangled, mannequinlike, with ashen skin and blood dripping down his arms and in drops from his fingers. Rivulets of black streamed down his face like tar and drew his mouth into a gaping smile—it reminded Crowe of the Starscourge, but worse, advanced too far into monstrosity to be saved. The sight chilled Crowe’s blood and froze her in place at the bottom of the stairs.

Then a voice rang out in a strange echo inside her skull but still all around her. She should have recognized Chancellor Izunia, but all she heard were the words, the tauntingly amused tone: “Ah, another broken sword. The great hero who died nameless and in the dirt. How does it feel, knowing that he died in your place?”

It was the sound of Lunafreya gasping in pain that brought Crowe back. She raced up the stairs, head spinning and heart pounding, to see Izunia himself pulling the bloody knife from her abdomen; somewhere in the distance, Prince Noctis saw it, too.

Lunafreya was holding onto his arm, light rising from her kind hands; Crowe lunged forward with Nyx’s kukri, plunging it into the space between his neck and shoulder and wrenching it free immediately—barely noticing the blood that rose from the wound. She wanted to see more. She wanted to slit his throat to the bone, to stab him until he was only a gaping wound, to—

Light burst before Crowe could hit him again, though from him this time, throwing her back hard against the ground. A ship came level with him, slowly opening its mouth as Crowe gripped the kukri again, ready to run after him.

“How is your friend Nyx Ulric, by the way?” he asked them both lightly, then tipped his hat and stepped onto the ship with a smile that Crowe wanted to carve off his face.

She made to go after him, ready to warp, but Lunafreya’s hand catching her wrist stopped her.

“Stay with me. Please. You promised.”

The knife clattered to the ground as her fingers let go of it and her knees buckled, sinking beside Lunafreya with her arms outreached to pull her against her. With shaking hands, Crowe searched for the one potion she had been able to carry in her pockets; she put it in Lunafreya’s hand and wrapped her fingers around hers, helping her break the vial. She gasped and coughed, but her breath was less ragged when it calmed again, no longer wheezing, the bleeding slowing.

Crowe pressed a hand against the wound anyway, closing her eyes when Lunafreya gasped in pain, and both their bodies shook as she held her. Around them, the storm still raged.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Crowe kept repeating into Lunafreya’s hair, “I’m so sorry I failed you.”

Lunafreya could only grip her arm to reassure her, eyelids fluttering. Then she managed to speak, barely above a whisper: “I love you, too.”

After a moment, as though deciding she had rested enough, she began to move, reaching for the trident with a small whimper. 

“Help me up.”

She barely needed Crowe’s help; her determination pushed her up until she was entirely holding her weight on the weapon, looking at her over her shoulder. She was shaking, but unrelenting. “Noctis… gave you magic?”

Crowe nodded and stood. Lunafreya needed not to ask anything else; she understood. As the golden light shot up in a beam from Lunafreya’s trident towards the sky once more, Crowe walked to the edge and raised her arms, summoning the flames once more. As Lunafreya called to the Lucii and to the Light itself, she wielded her fire, guiding it in an arc in front of her and standing her ground even as Leviathan roared.

“Fuck off, fish,” she muttered through gritted teeth, only loud enough for herself to hear. She almost expected Nyx’s voice to crackle in her ear, the way he always chose her focusing on holding magic as the best moment to bug her on the comm, but there was only the uproar of the maelstrom.

She made the fire spin, countering the spiral of waves the Hydraean created in her rage. As Prince Noctis rose into the sky with light spinning around him, the flames gave him an opening to begin his assault on Leviathan, but as he focused all of his power, so did the magic begin to fade from Crowe’s grasp. She dropped the spell and turned to Lunafreya, who was now without the trident as it passed to Noctis.

“We have to go.”

“Not yet,” Lunafreya said, looking up at him as he fought. “He will need healing after this.”

“ _You_ need healing, and I’ve barely got enough magic to warp us out of here. Please, Luna.”

“Trust me.”

Crowe gritted her teeth and knelt by Lunafreya again, checking her wound—still open, but already no longer bleeding as a result of the potion. She picked up Nyx’s kukri and slipped it into its sheath until it would be needed again. In the distance, Noctis was little more than a dizzying array of flashing light, until the Hydraean wailed and contorted, wounded but not yet beaten. The light around died down; his fighting was over.

Prince Noctis’ unconscious body ended up just in front of them by the edge of the altar, and Crowe moved away as Lunafreya went to him to wrap her arms around him, cradling his head.

“Blessed Stars of life and light,” Lunafreya said, conjuring a ring of light that burst around them so brightly that Crowe had to step back two paces, feeling its warmth on her skin. The earth began to shake deeply under her feet, and Noctis rose into the air again, away from danger.

Lunafreya let go. Her hand found Crowe’s and gripped it with all the strength she had left, her skin too cold but still filled with life. Remnants of Noctis’ power passed from her fingers to Crowe, filling her with one last surge of magic.

She held Lunafreya against her and tightly squeezed Nyx’s kukri. Then she threw it.

How she managed to warp the both of them away and to safety as the Archaean rose from the water to battle the Hydraean, Crowe wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it took what little she had left, and she felt in the lightness of her body that the magic had left her entirely—again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant playlist sections:  
> NYX — Stand By Me

Away from Altissia, things were strangely quiet as they worked through the aftershocks of the Hydraean’s ritual. Back to the mainland, it was distant, the subject of much talk without ever feeling as real as it had been for Lunafreya and Crowe, in the eye of the storm. The radio droned on in the background where Lunafreya kept it on, listening while wrapped in a heavy blanket: much of the city had been leveled as a result of the Archaean’s intervention, but Noctis was said to have escaped safely. Lunafreya, however, had once again been pronounced dead.

The sound of the first secretary expressing her grief in the loss of the Oracle over the airwaves sounded to Crowe’s ears as though she were underwater. The government of Accordo did not hold Lunafreya or Prince Noctis accountable for the damage done to the city; instead, it encouraged the people to rebuild in the spirit of hope and in memory of the Oracle. They had already lost enough, Claustra said. It was all Crowe caught as she pushed a few gil into the payphone and her fingers hovered over the numbers in uncertainty before she found the courage to dial Libertus’ number.

When Crowe had told her about what she had seen, Lunafreya had been quite convinced that Chancellor Izunia had only been toying with her. He’d wanted to keep Crowe away from her and pinpointed her weaknesses that he might better manipulate her—there was something grim in Lunafreya’s tone then, as though she had discovered something about him beyond his attempt on her life and wanted to keep it close to her chest. Instead, she had said something that Crowe still did not know:

“The man who shot you,” Lunafreya had said, pausing as Crowe supplied his name in a whisper. “Nyx was shot by him as well, trying to get me out of the city. His wounds were grievous—like yours were, I imagine. But he survived them.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I watched him put on the Ring of the Lucii, and he did not burn. My brother lost his arm to their judgement; Luche lost his life. But Nyx Ulric put on the Ring and they lent him their power because they deemed him worthy, so that he could summon the Old Wall and fight General Glauca—your captain, Drautos.”

Crowe had frowned. “So…”

“I believe Nyx had a better chance of living through the invasion than any other.”

“I really hope you’re right,” she had said softly, but the doubt was still in her mind.

Though she refused to believe that what Izunia had manipulated her with was true, it haunted her enough that she needed to hear Libertus deny it. The line rang several times before connecting. Crowe had to brace herself against the payphone at the sound of his voice; she hadn’t realized how badly she had been needing to hear him until it physically hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Crowe? I saw the news about Altissia—”

“Where are you?” she asked, barely aware that she was cutting him off.

“Back in Galahd. Where are _you_? Are you okay?” His voice was more worried than ever, but it still felt like he was worlds away after all that she had gone through. “Is the princess really dead?”

“We’re both fine, we got out of Altissia after we got the Ring to Prince Noctis. Nyx is with you, isn’t he?”

There was a long, heavy pause on the other end. Crowe felt dizzy, her heart pounding, and the vertigo plunged ever deeper when Libertus spoke again, his voice strained with grief. “Nyx is dead, Crowe.”

Crowe’s breath began to shake, fluttering up from her lungs uncontrollably and pushing against her as she tried to hold back the sobs that crashed through her. It hurt when she tried to speak, so tight as her voice was. “Did he know? That I lived—did you tell him? Before, before he…”

“I found his body when I got back into the city. He was already gone,” Libertus said softly. “He died a Glaive. I know that in his heart, he wanted to honour you.”

Crowe didn’t want to be honoured—she was much too alive for that. She just wanted her family, and wanted it to be together and whole.

“I have to go,” she said quickly, though Libertus likely saw right through her; she couldn’t do this, especially not over the phone. The survivor’s guilt was choking her as she thought of Nyx, then of leaving Libertus behind, mourning Nyx alone after he had already grieved for her.

“Crowe, please—”

“I’ll be in Galahd soon. Wait for me.”

“Be safe,” Libertus said, his voice distant but gentle as she slammed the receiver back on its base, then again. And again.

She passed a shaking hand over her mouth, through her hair and back over her face again, wiping the tears that fell freely. Her feet, her whole body were heavy with shock as she moved away from the phone, towards the great expanse of land that stretched out before her. Crowe watched the sun shining in the blue sky above and wanted to wrench it away, to let it burn her whole if it could only let him live. They had lost too much and in too short a time; she felt like a storm of weariness and bitterness.

The anger filled her body all at once. Her whole being ached, from her heart to her bones, and there was nothing she could do to hold it back. She threw her arms forward, hands outstretched and fingers splayed wide. Fire scorched the ground in an angry line in front of her, raw and unprompted, so that she was left staring in shock at the sparks of flame sputter out over the black marks on the earth.

Quiet footsteps crunched in the gravel behind her. Crowe looked down at her hands, unable to grasp how this could have happened, then turned to face Lunafreya as she walked towards her, one hand over her bandaged wound.

“I don’t understand,” Crowe said, still holding up her hands, her face tear-stained and crestfallen.

Lunafreya didn’t have all the answers; she could only offer possibilities and comfort. Her healing hands slipped into Crowe’s and she drew her in close. “It must be your heart.”

There was nothing Crowe could say. Her gasping sobs returned as she looked at Lunafreya, almost collapsing against her embrace. “I am so sorry for Nyx. He was a good man.”

Her hands traced soft lines down Crowe’s neck and back as she held her for a long time, until Crowe straightened up to wipe at her face. Lunafreya reached for the pin in her hair and slipped it into Crowe’s, for it had passed to her hands from Nyx’s, then let her fingers trail gently down the sides of her face. Wiping away her tears with her thumbs, she pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to her lips, ever so softly.

There was nothing else to be said, for that moment.

***

Some of the days that followed were better than others. Crowe went back and forth in the midst of her sorrow, but on the better days, she had much to set her mind to; she tried to channel the sinking in her chest into magic, hoping to recreate what had happened after her call with Libertus (to no avail), and kept a watchful eye on Lunafreya as she rested between bouts of travel. Having her close kept Crowe’s head above water.

It helped, too—as horrible as that was—that Lunafreya was believed dead, even by the Empire. This time, no one looked for her and no immediate, world-shaking duty called to her; they could travel and let Lunafreya heal in peace. Slowly, they headed towards Galahd, towards at least a small measure of peace. Grief and injuries aside, it almost felt as though she were on a simple road trip with a new girlfriend.

Life was as normal as it could possibly be; not very much, but Crowe knew to count her blessings.

“I’ve got some Crow’s Nest,” Crowe announced, dropping the take-out bag in front of Lunafreya. She had thought that the constant fast food would get on Lunafreya’s nerves eventually, especially with the life she’d had, but her eyes still lit up as she dug through the bag and immediately plucked a fry from inside it. “And some news, too. But they’re a little grim.”

“What is it?”

“Apparently Prince Noctis was seen in Tenebrae. Mourning for you.”

“Oh,” Lunafreya said softly, lowering her half-eaten fry and her gaze.

“Do you want to get in touch? I mean, not Umbra-touch. I can ask Libertus to get me one of his Crownsguard’s phone numbers, and you’ll be able to tell him yourself that you’re safe and sound.”

Lunafreya hesitated for a moment, the conflict clear on her face, and Crowe felt bad for even mentioning it and dredging up her tormented feelings for Noctis once again. “Not yet. As much as it pains me to know that he suffers because of me… The nights are becoming longer, and the days shorter. He is the King of Light—he must come into his own, and it is my duty as Oracle to see that he does. Noctis will fight harder so long as he believes I am dead; it may well be the last push he needs.”

“You think he’ll do it?” Crowe asked softly.

“He must. There is no turning back after Altissia.”

“As long as you don’t have to really die for him,” she said, taking Lunafreya’s hand.

“It is not in my intention to, I assure you,” Lunafreya smiled. Satisfied, Crowe pulled her burger from the bag and began to unwrap it, but Lunafreya had not moved her attention away from her. “Not after how far we’ve come.”

Crowe smiled. “Good to hear.”

That night, Crowe was exhausting herself in the dark trying to conjure lightning from her palm when Lunafreya propped herself up on her elbow to look at her where she lay on her back.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, as she had been checking in periodically for the last few days.

“I don’t know, how’s your wound?” Crowe asked in return, as she did when she didn’t want to say her heart was heavy with sorrow. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to admit it, and even less because she didn’t trust Lunafreya with her feelings. She was only tired from all the voice cracking, crying, and subsequent throat pain and headaches that inevitably came when she spoke of it.

She couldn’t be certain in the dark, but Lunafreya was likely giving her a deadpan look. “My injury is fine, thank you. You’ve been taking good care of me and it is better with each passing day.”

“Just doing my job, Your Highness.”

Lunafreya gently but firmly shoved her shoulder.

“I’m trying to do better with each passing day,” Crowe admitted with a sigh, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Staying alive, keeping happy despite it all. It’s what he’d want. But getting better after literally getting shot was a cakewalk next to this.”

“I know,” Lunafreya said softly, stroking the skin of Crowe’s arm with her thumb. She, too, was no stranger to grief. It could only be an everyday affair that she walked beside her for; she saw that Crowe still slept with Nyx’s kukri beside her, not so much for safety as for an anchor, and she wanted to be an anchor, too.

“Luna? Can I say something kind of terrible?”

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad.”

“I just want Prince Noctis to deal with this and leave us alone,” Crowe said. “Leave you alone. Just once I don’t want to have to fight for the future. Is that selfish?”

“Selfish? I can’t say. But after everything—” Lunafreya began to say, then hesitated for a moment before continuing, her tone growing even more gentle, “after Nyx gave his life fighting for that future, it is only human for you to want the sacrifices to end. I want the same.”

Crowe nodded, flexing her fingers. Not a spark of magic answered her call, but perhaps it was better so. Perhaps it meant she didn’t have to fight anymore, at least until she had a new king to serve. The sword that she was slowly was beginning to have the right to lose its edge, so that the steel could continue to shine without being bloody.

She still felt guilty as the world grew grimmer and the future more threatened, but for now, she had given all that she could. She’d had the strength to fight this far, at least, and managed to come back from it breathing. Still alive.

In the thoughtful silence, Lunafreya trailed her fingers across the hem of Crowe’s shirt almost distractedly, warm against the silky skin. Eventually they found the bumpy, slowly scarring tissue of her bullet wound and drew a ticklish chuckle from her, her belly jumping under the butterfly-soft touch.

“We match now,” Lunafreya said, putting her free hand over her own healing wound.

Crowe smiled in the dark; Lunafreya could hear it in her voice and see the outline of her lips stretching up towards her cheeks. “Yeah, partners in refusing to die when creepy dudes want us to. So romantic.”

“It’s called resilience,” Lunafreya said pointedly, poking at Crowe’s shoulder in another small, playful shove, “and the symbolic symmetry _is_ romantic.”

“I know,” Crowe said, grinning. She lifted a finger—a decidedly non-magical finger—and tapped Lunafreya’s jaw. “Kiss me.”

She didn’t have to be asked twice.

***

“Luna, what time is it?” Crowe called over her shoulder, standing at the edge of the road.

Lunafreya, still sitting in the car, glanced at the dashboard clock. “A quarter past two.”

“And it’s not broken?”

“Not the clock,” Lunafreya said, not wanting to say that it was the world that was broken. They both already knew that.

Crowe sighed. “It’s definitely getting worse every day. Okay, you can come out. I don’t think the daemons will be showing up for a bit and I have something to show you.”

“Is that why we stopped in the middle of the road with no prior indication?” Lunafreya asked rhetorically as she stepped out of the car and joined Crowe on the side of the road. Her sarcasm was definitely rubbing off on her, but Crowe wasn’t about to say it wasn’t very becoming of an Oracle; she enjoyed it too much.

Dusk was rapidly falling over the sky, but the dying light of the sun still streaked it brightly enough that the naked eye could yet see some distance ahead. In the valley down below them stretched a small region, broken and still suffering but very much alive, much like its people.

“That there is Galahd, Princess. It’s not much, but it’s as good as home, and it’s a place where you’ll be able to be normal for as long as you like. Maybe Libertus and I can get money daemon-hunting. Who knows. That’d be normal, right?”

Soon, Lunafreya would resume her duties as Oracle yet again, as quietly as possible. But for some time at least, she could live as normal a life as she had ever known. On the day she had left Insomnia with Crowe, she could have never expected that she might one day, not so distantly, get to see Libertus in Galahd as he had offered. Maybe it wasn’t with Noctis or as his queen, but she imagined it would make him even happier that it was at Crowe’s side instead.

Lunafreya reached for Crowe’s hand and laced their fingers together, pressing her body close to hers. The shadows of the last hiccups of sunset drew melancholy upon Crowe’s face as she stared out into the distance, but when she brought her attention back to Lunafreya, it was lit up by a smile.

“C’mon, let’s go find a place to make camp. Tomorrow, we’ll be home,” Crowe said.

“Wait,” Lunafreya said, taking Crowe’s other hand to draw her face-to-face with her and letting go, bringing a hand up to her hair. She brushed it away and cupped her face, kissing her in the dying light of day, long and slow and breathless.

“Thank you,” she said, parting from her just far enough to whisper against her lips.

Once they had made camp, they sat outside with the glowing runes around them until the moon and stars came out, lighting the dark with white and silver. Crowe took her eyes from the sky to look at Lunafreya.

“The moon’s beautiful,” she said, still looking at her.

Lunafreya smiled, meeting her gaze. “And so are the stars.”

When next they slept, she dreamt of putting sylleblossoms in Crowe’s hair under the last star of dawn, its light filling the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much! This was very much a labour of love (and, let's face it: rage from Kingsglaive all the way to Altissia) that started as a short piece for femslash February but completely and utterly got away from me, and I hope it was as enjoyable and satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write it. Please drop me a line and give me your impressions! You can also check the [tag](http://ronsenboobi.tumblr.com/tagged/crowna%20fic%20progress/chrono) I made for this fic on my Tumblr if you're interested in seeing some of the behind-the-scenes stuff, and please don't hesitate to hit me up either if you want to chat about this fic; that would make me super happy!


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